For personal and select distribution only � June 1999
by Pam Hunter

Michaela pulled her galloping horse up to an abrupt halt, sending it into prancing circles as she looked back for Sully who was following just a little more sedately behind. Her cheeks were flushed with excitement and her long coppery hair swirled around her shoulders and down her back and whipped with the breeze across her face. She laughed exuberantly and called to her husband, "Come on slowcoach!" as Flash once again wheeled to the right, kicking up thick dust from the dry trail.

A chortling Sully reined in his horse beside her, sidestepping as the high-spirited horse and rider threatened to dislodge him from his own mount. He brushed his sun-bleached locks back from his sweaty face, his heart leaping as he acknowledged that he’d rarely seen Michaela look as relaxed and happy. After the traumas of the last year he’d feared never seeing her like this again. Clutching at her wide-brimmed leather hat as it threatened to fall back off her head, she grinned at him cheekily through her wispy bangs. She leant forward to reward Flash with an enthusiastic pat, running her hands through the mare’s long, shaggy mane. This time Sully was the one to suddenly wheel his horse around, catching Michaela unawares. He reached across to grasp her by the waist and recklessly hauled her out of her saddle to sit straddling his legs, sharing his mount. "Gotcha," he chuckled proudly.

"Sully!" she exclaimed, attempting to sound offended, but not really succeeding. "What are you doing! …. What if Flash runs away!"

In reply, Sully merely clutched her more securely to himself and, as he lightly kissed her neck, muttered, "Ya know she won’t do that." Michaela could but giggle, knowing that he was right, and enjoying his gentle and somewhat arousing attention. He rather precariously lowered her to the ground and she clung to his heavily muscled forearm to ensure that she didn’t fall. "How ‘bout we rest here for a little while, before headin’ home?" he suggested hopefully, leaping from his horse to stand close beside her.

"Mmmm, I don’t really want these three days to end," she remarked dreamily, as she glanced around at their woody and isolated surroundings. She removed her hat, hung it on her saddle horn, tossed her long, silky hair back over her shoulders and wandered across to squat beside a swiftly running stream. While Sully loosely tethered the horses nearby, she undid the buttons at the cuffs of her light cotton blouse and rolled the sleeves up to her elbows before cupping her hands in the freezing water and bringing them up to her lips to drink and to wash the dry dust from her hot skin. She was startled when Sully suddenly brushed passed her, wading into the water up to his knees. "Sully, it might be early summer but the water’s still freezing! Its coming straight off the mountains!" she exclaimed. "You’ll catch a chill."

In reply Sully merely laughed and advanced threateningly towards her. "It aint so bad," he said mildly. "Fact is its kinda refreshin’." He made another forward move and she began to hurriedly back away from him, worried that she was in for a dunking. Instead, he suddenly bent double to dip his head and swish it from side to side in the clear icy water. Michaela laughed out loud as he straightened up, tossing his head back, his long hair spraying a sparkling arc of water high into the air before it came to rest lankly and wetly on his shoulders. Feigning insult at her laughter he moved slowly towards her, grasped her by the arms and then shook his head vigorously, spraying water all over her. She exclaimed between bubbles of laughter, "Sully!! I’m getting all wet!"

"I’ll show ya wet!" he warned with a grin, as he scooped her up into his arms and turned once more towards the water. She clung to him, all the while squealing his name, her heart beating at twice its normal pace, anticipating the shock of freezing water. Then suddenly a wide, knowing grin spread across her face and she tightened her hold, pulling herself up as close as possible to him - if she was going to be soaked then so was he!

Sully took a few more steps towards the icy water, but then a new sensation began to overwhelm him. Michaela was pressed up against his chest, her arms wound tightly around his neck, her breath tickling his ear. "Mmmm ... maybe I got a better idea," he murmured suggestively, as he turned his face towards hers, fixing his blue-eyed gaze on her sensuous mouth. He changed direction, moving away from the water towards an oak-shaded clearing. He gently placed her down on a slight mossy slope and then fell to his knees beside her. Water droplets from his hair fell onto the soft cotton of her blouse, making it stick to her skin and become almost transparent. Her eyes were glittering with both excitement and now desire and she nervously ran her tongue over her parted lips.

Sully slowly slid down until he was laying propped up on his elbow beside her, his seductive eyes raking her flushed face. He lovingly ran the pad of his thumb across her moistened lips, and in response she reached up to place her hand at the nape of his neck, beneath his wet hair, to draw him down to her. She met resistance. He smiled teasingly at her, maintaining a little distance between them. Her brow creased in both puzzlement and exasperation and he chuckled deep in his throat at her reaction. He slowly ran his fingertips down the soft skin of her long neck, then between the valley of her breasts, pausing momentarily to lightly trace their outline before moving lower. Again she applied urgent pressure to his neck, trying to bring his lips down to join with hers. His smile broadened cheekily. Holding her gaze, he began to slowly unbutton her blouse, watching intently as every emotion she was feeling flashed across her beautiful face. As his fingers grazed her sensitive skin, her colour heightened and her nipples hardened, standing out clearly through the thin summer cotton. She moaned softly and strained to lift her head from the mossy ground, seeking his lips, but again he would not lower his head. When every button was undone he pushed the cotton back off her shoulders and then teasingly played with the ribbons at the front of her camisole. She was breathing heavily now, her eyes afire, her skin flushed with arousal.

He began to ever so slowly draw the ribbon ends upwards until the bow loosened, and then he gradually parted the fronts of her camisole and tenderly edged his fingers under the soft fabric to caress her bare skin. Michaela’s eyes closed, she caught her lip between her teeth and arched her back, reacting to his stirring touch. "Ya like that huh?" he murmured. She opened her eyes, the gleam in them all the answer he needed. At last he began to lower his head and her lips parted in anticipation of the kiss for which she longed. Instead, he began to nip and kiss the soft flesh of her neck, then chest and lastly her sensitive breasts. No longer able to remain passive beneath him, she brought her hands up to his damp shirt and tugged at it until it came adrift of his buckskins. At last she could run her hands over his heated skin, her ardent ministrations causing him to become even more fervent in his. His mouth was drawn inexorably upwards until, at last, their lips did meet in a prolonged, fulfilling kiss which made their hearts race at an even greater rate and a fine sheen of perspiration erupt on their skin.

There was no time for complete disrobing. Their need, their desire was now too intense, too immediate. Finally the couple joined as one, their words of endearment, sighs of pleasure and cries of passion intermingling with those of the wild birds and creatures of their remote surroundings. Afterwards they lay close together in sated, loving silence, sheathed in a protective cloak of warm, filtered sunlight and unaccustomed, treasured solitude.

Some little time later Michaela sat on the moss-covered ground, her back against the smooth bark of a young oak. Sully was laying between her legs, his back to her, his head cradled against her chest. She had straightened her skirt into some semblance of order and loosely tied the ribbons at the front of her camisole back together, though her blouse remained unbuttoned to her waist. As she gently ran her fingers through his long, sun-streaked hair he held her bare foot tenderly in his hand, gently massaging the instep with his thumb. She gave an occasional sigh of pleasure and contentment.

She was staring off into space, not even noticing the beauty of this untouched wilderness, when suddenly she started nervously. Feeling the abrupt movement, Sully swung around to face her. "Michaela!" he queried apprehensively. She coloured slightly and then with a nervous smile, tentatively asked, "Nobody’s likely to come along here … are they Sully?" She was already tugging at her blouse, pulling the fronts together. Sully chuckled. "Bit late to be worryin’ ‘bout that now." Michaela’s blush deepened and she continued to fiddle with the soft cotton. Sully grasped her hands and stilled them. "Didn’ ya notice how the trail’s all grown over …. aint no-one uses it no more …..," he said reassuringly.

Michaela eyed him speculatively. "But *you* knew it," she challenged.

"Well yeah …. I oughta," he replied ambiguously.

"What do you mean?"

"Travelled along this way often enough …"

"When?" she inquired, puzzled.

Sully turned to face her and then pointed upwards, towards the hills in the distance. "’Bout three miles up that way, on a steep ridge, is Burnham’s mine ….. worked there a long time ago …. Its closed now …."

Michaela’s brow creased, obviously considering this new information and then she abruptly asked, "Is that where …..?"

Sully, anticipating the remainder of her question jumped in, "Nah … it aint where the cave-in happened …. worked at Burnham’s afterwards …" He gave an involuntary shudder at the memory.

Michaela lowered her eyes to the ground and there was a long silence. She vividly recalled the day she’d asked, no, actually begged, him to tell her of that incident. Less than half way into his harrowing account she’d desperately wished he’d never relented. Dispelling the disturbing memory, she squeezed his hand and asked quietly, "When did you work there?"

"Came in the summer of sixty ….. silver was startin’ to run out over at Creighton’s." He paused and with a nod indicated a point far off to the east. "Daniel stayed on …. but I decided to head further west …. Burnham took me on ….. Did a lot of spade work …. liftin’ work …. Then one day, not long after startin’, drove the supply wagon into Colorado Springs an’ met Abagail …" He trailed off, lost in both good and bad memories. When he realised what he’d said he started guiltily and his eyes flew to his wife’s face. She smiled indulgently at him. "Its alright Sully …" she said softly. He smiled and leaned across to kiss her lovingly. Then he added, "After that I got to know this trail pretty well …. used to travel it quite a lot …." He grinned shyly at her.

"Did you work there long?"

"As long as I could …. Few years an’ the line started ta run out there too ….. Burnham kept me on cos I’d do just about anythin’." For some reason he dropped his head and then stared away into the distance. He murmured distractedly, "I started buildin’ the homestead …. needed the money …." He shook himself and smiled endearingly at her. "It’s a long time ago …. ya can see that by the trail …. almost disappeared."

Michaela gazed up towards the ridge of which Sully had spoken. "So nobody stayed up there? No-one at all?"

"Why would they? …. No reason to …. unless ya want to be a hermit," Sully chuckled. Then his brow creased in thought. "Course I heard some Jewish families settled further up in the mountains …… somewhere mid way between here an’ Soda Springs …..near the pass inta the next valley. Used ta be a few of ‘em workin’ in the minin’ camps …. mostly on the books or managin’ supplies …." He trailed off, his eyes turned towards a distant peak.

"I wish I’d known you then," murmured Michaela. "There’s a part of you I know so little about …"

Sully shrugged his shoulders. "Ya know the important part …," he whispered softly. "The past is the past …. don’ much like lookin’ back …"

Michaela leant across to give him a loving, understanding kiss and then glanced up into the clear, blue, summer sky. "Do you think we should be heading back? How long will it take us to reach home? The children are expecting us for supper .."

Sully chuckled. "We got plenty of time … sun won’ set til after eight …. Still I suppose we better be gettin’ ready …." The last he spoke almost reluctantly.

Michaela, recognising the tone of regret, edged across and into his arms. "Its been a wonderful three days Sully," she said softly. "We so seldom have the opportunity to just be together."

"Mmmm …," he agreed. "We’ll have to make more time huh?" He pulled her close into a loving embrace, savouring these last few moments before they returned to their busy lives in Colorado Springs. At last he said ruefully, "Ready?" She pulled back and nodded her head, reaching for her scattered boots and stockings. Sully pulled his shirt on over his head, leaving it loose over his buckskins and then drew on his socks and boots.

Suddenly, as he was tying the first set of laces, he paused, and his eyes flew to the overgrown trail. Michaela, noticing his stillness, also ceased what she was doing. She heard it too. "Someone’s coming!" she hissed, her hands flying to the buttons on her blouse. "Uh huh," rejoined Sully, quickly tying his other boot.

******************************

Michaela’s eyes were frantically scanning the clearing, seeking an escape, or at least a place to hide until she was more presentably dressed. Sully edged towards the narrow trunk of the oak tree and whispered, "Sit behind me, against my back …. maybe they’ll ignore us."

Michaela sighed and did as she was told, retorting in an indignant whisper, "You said no-one uses this trail!"

"They don’t …. You saw how overgrown it is," replied Sully, also in a whisper, unable to disguise the gleam of humour in his eyes, a gleam which thankfully went unseen by his embarrassed wife. Haste made the buttons on her blouse seem both minuscule and numerous and her fingers stiff and lacking coordination. Again she sighed frustratedly.

Meanwhile the steady clomping of horse’s hooves was growing louder and a single rider appeared in Sully’s field of vision. He couldn’t help but grunt in disgust when he recognised the rider. Of all people!

Much to Michaela’s dismay she heard the horse stop on the trail adjacent to them and then a familiar chuckle. "Afternoon Sully." The man paused as if waiting for her to turn around and then added, "An’ Michaela….. Enjoyin’ the summer sun I see," he sneered, albeit good-naturedly.

"Afternoon Hank," replied Sully, endeavouring to keep his voice even. "You’re a long ways from home …"

"Same could be said for you two." The tall barkeep slid from his saddle to the ground and led his sweating horse across to the stream to drink and in so doing passed the flustered Michaela. "Afternoon Michaela …. Sun’s warm aint it?"

She blushed furiously, all too conscious of her blouse, now buttoned but hanging untidily over the waistband of her skirt and her dishevelled hair, which when she tried to pat it into place, disclosed a variety of dry leaves and twigs. She gave Hank a slight nod of her head and continued to work on her appearance.

Hank wandered back to Sully. "You two headin’ home?" he asked, the sneering tone now absent from his voice.

"Uh huh ….. kids are expectin’ us for supper," replied Sully. "You?"

"Yeah …. Reckon Jake’ll be sick of mindin’ the ‘Nugget’ for me by now …. Teresa’ll have a bit to say on that subject too."

"How long ya bin gone?" asked Sully, not naturally inquisitive but trying to distract the saloon keeper’s attention from his obviously flustered wife.

"Nearly a week," replied Hank with a shrug. It was obvious he was reluctant to say what he’d been doing.

Sully couldn’t resist. "Bin up in the mountains?"

The taller man’s eyes flew to Sully’s deadpan face. "Ah …. nah ….. bin to Manitou …. Had ta check out the competition ….. Some investor from Denver’s buildin’ a new hotel …."

"You’ve taken the long way home comin’ through here," remarked Sully with a sly grin. "An I never heard of a trip to Manitou takin’ a week."

Hank’s head dropped a little. "Yeah … well maybe I needed some time on my own …. like you two huh?"

This time Sully shrugged his shoulders. It didn’t matter to him what Hank had been doing. He figured every man had a right to some privacy. He turned a little towards Michaela. "You ready to go?" he asked gently. He was startled by the hint of tears in her eyes. She was plainly mortified to have been discovered in a state of undress by Hank. She nodded bravely and he stood, offering her his hand. She allowed him to draw her up and then surreptitiously straightened her blouse and skirt, endeavouring to tuck the ends of the blouse into her waistband.

Noting Michaela’s discomfiture, Hank couldn’t help but grin, though refrained from commenting, something for which Sully was grateful. "Mind if I ride along with ya? Seein’ we’re all headed in the same direction …" inquired Hank, in a tone which suggested that he was only being polite, he was going to ride with them anyway.

Michaela bit her lip but she too refrained from commenting. Her beautiful summer’s day alone with her husband had definitely taken a turn for the worst. She nodded her agreement and watched as Sully strode across to untether the horses, leaving her alone with the barkeep.

"Mighty quiet today Michaela," he chuckled. He leaned a little closer. "Don’ worry I won’ tell no-one …," and he gave her a conspiratorial wink.

Michaela’s blushed deepened and she lowered her eyes to the dusty trail. Would she ever live this down? Hank’s mocking grin and words were hard to endure at the best of times. He seemed to delight in making her feel uncomfortable. She drew her diminutive self up to her full height and said with as much dignity as she could muster, "I’d appreciate that Hank." In reply, Hank merely chuckled again.

Neither Michaela, lost in thought as she wandered over to Flash, nor the two men making desultory conversation, were aware of the eerie stillness which abruptly descended upon the clearing. The birds suddenly ceased their summer song, there was no rustling of creatures amongst the trees, even the cicadas seemed to be holding their collective breath. Sully bolstered Michaela up into her saddle. She settled herself and, as a matter of habit, unhooked her leather hat from where it had been suspended on her saddle horn, and placed it on her head, securely fastening the cords under her chin. Hank lifted his leg and stepped into his stirrup, preparatory to mounting his tall chestnut, while Sully strode around to his horse and confidently grabbed the reins.

What happened next seemed to occur almost in slow motion. Suddenly, piercing the silence, came the strident, ferocious growl of a mountain lion objecting to trespassers occupying its domain. As one, the three horses shied and reared up. Michaela, her hands at her chin instead of on the reins, tumbled backwards, hitting the ground with a bone-jarring thump. Hank, his foot in the stirrup, was also tipped backwards, then painfully dragged for a few yards as he struggled to free his foot. Sully lunged forward but was not quick enough to stop his frightened horse which took off up the trail at speed, dragging its unwanted hindrance along on his stomach, before ridding itself of him with a fierce backward kick. Within seconds, silence again reigned in the woods and three, stunned people lay on the ground attempting to regain their breath and equilibrium.

Sully was up first, his arm and hand held awkwardly against his chest. For just a moment his eyes focussed on the cloud of dust which signified the disappearance of their horses into the distance. Shaking his head in disgust, he hurried over to Michaela who was laying on her side on the ground, gasping for breath. "Michaela …. you alright?" he inquired anxiously. Unable to gain enough breath to speak, she nodded and then grimaced in pain as she tried to turn onto her back. "Michaela?" he asked even more worriedly.

At last she took a deep breath and wheezed, "Its alright …… just winded …. that’s all." She took several more deep breaths and then coughed. Sully eased her up into a sitting position and as she rested her full weight on her buttocks she moaned in pain. "Michaela?" he exclaimed.

"I must have landed on my hip," she said softly, easing herself back onto her left side.

"Is it broken?"

"I doubt it …. probably badly bruised," Michaela replied, moving gingerly. She glanced up into the worried blue eyes of her husband. "Its alright Sully ….. I’ll be fine," she reassured him. She suddenly realised that she was not the only one hurt. "Sully! Your arm!" she exclaimed, gently reaching to draw it down from where he held it gingerly against his chest.

Now it was Sully’s turn to do the reassuring. "Guess its bruised too … around the elbow," he said softly. He reluctantly let her examine his arm and when she reached his hand, winced as she gently unfurled his balled up fist.

"This isn’t bruising Sully," said Michaela reprovingly. The reins he’d grasped tightly in a desperate bid to control his horse, had bitten into the flesh, and the palm of his hand was crossed with deep red welts, some of which bore broken, bloody skin. "Oh Sully," she sighed. She lifted his hand to her lips and gave it a soft kiss. "I’ll bind it up in a minute," she whispered, and then glanced around seeking Hank. She spied him sitting some ten yards away, tentatively holding his left knee. "Hank? Are you alright?" she called.

"Yeah …. I’m fine ….. Damn horses," he cursed, rubbing at his kneecap. "Can never trust ‘em." His brow creased in both pain and concern. He directed his gaze at Sully. "What do we do now eh? ….. Long way back ta town."

Sully shrugged his shoulders. "Aint got a choice …. Gonna haveta take it real slow though …." He turned to Michaela. "Can ya stand up?"

She regarded him dubiously. "I think so," she replied with decided reservations. Her hip was beginning to throb now that the initial shock was wearing off. She again glanced across at Hank and with a nod of her head, remarked quietly, "Um … by the look of it he may not be able to hobble far either." She grasped Sully’s good arm and he gently eased her upright. She finally stood, wavering a little, favouring her right leg. "Can ya walk?" Sully asked apprehensively, noting her reluctance to place her weight squarely on both feet. She shrugged her shoulders and clasped his forearm tightly. She took a tentative step and immediately her leg buckled under her as the hip rejected any idea of moving and she gave a barely stifled moan. Sully grasped her tightly as she threatened to topple. "Here … let me help ya," he said, lowering her to the ground. He watched anxiously as her face paled and a sheen of perspiration appeared on her skin. He squatted down before her. "Looks like you’re the one aint gonna be movin’ anywhere," he said lovingly, gently brushing the hair back from her forehead. She nodded mutely, her hand held protectively against her painful hip.

Sully instinctively glanced around at the clearing which just a short time ago had been a haven but which now seemed foreign and even dangerous. He shook his head ruefully. Hank was right. They *were* a long way from home and with Michaela in such poor shape it could now take *days* to reach Colorado Springs, not just hours. He eyed the barkeep who was still gingerly rubbing his knee. He rose and wandered over to the him. "Is it bad?" he asked. Hank shrugged his shoulders. "Hurts pretty bad but I don’ think anythin’s broken …. Least I hope not …" He tried to flex the leg and winced. "Damn horse," he reiterated under his breath.

"Hank? Are you alright?" Michaela suddenly called across the clearing.

"Yeah …. ‘bout as good as you I reckon," Hank replied. He looked up at Sully. "Here give us a hand an’ I’ll try ta git up," he said determinedly. Sully held out his good hand and taking Hank’s, heaved him upright. It was immediately clear that the barkeep, although not quite as incapacitated as Michaela, was also going to experience considerable difficulty walking very far. He glanced across into Sully’s concerned eyes, his brow creased in consternation. "Aint good is it?" he said, stating the obvious.

"No it aint," agreed Sully, his eyes flying from one patient to the other. "But we can’t stay here." Hank nodded and took a few tentative steps towards Michaela. By the time he stood beside her he was breathing heavily and resting his weight on the other leg, trying to ease the perpetual pain.

"You better let me examine that knee," Michaela recommended kindly.

"Aint gonna do much good," replied Hank practically. "Don’ see no medical bag round here …"

Michaela nodded dejectedly. "Everything went with the horses," she muttered.

"Uh huh," agreed the two men simultaneously.

For the first time their precarious situation hit Michaela. She looked up at Sully, her brow creased in consternation.

******************************

"What are we going to do?" she asked anxiously.

"Gonna head home," Sully replied immediately.

"How?"

"Well … its gonna be slow … but if I fashion some sort of crutch for Hank ….. an’ I carry you …." His voice trailed off as his mind went to work.

"Haven’t you forgotten something Sully?" asked Michaela, her tone serious.

"What?"

"Your arm and hand …"

Sully eyed the damaged hand ruefully. "What about ‘em?"

"We’re not going to get very far with you having to carry me."

"Done it before," rejoined Sully, with just a touch of indignation.

"Yes … you have …. But never with one hand out of operation," replied Michaela sceptically.

Hank was watching this exchange with interest. When Michaela mentioned Sully carrying her before, he regarded the other man quizzically. Deciding that the couple had reached an impasse, he interjected. "Seems to me there’s only one thing for it," he stated decisively. Both pairs of eyes regarded him intently, so he continued. "Sully …. seems to me you’re the only one can move without pain an’ probably just as fast as usual …. So maybe you’d better go for help …. Me an’ Michaela can wait here for ya."

"I aint leavin’ her behind," retorted Sully stubbornly.

"Aint got a choice man," responded Hank just as stubbornly.

The two sometimes adversaries eyed each other warily. Michaela suddenly broke the silence. In a subdued tone she said, "Hank’s right Sully …. It would take us days to get home if we all went together …. If you go alone we could be home by sometime tomorrow." She paused and then added plaintively, "Couldn’t we?"

Sully took a deep breath. Inwardly he had to acknowledge that there was no alternative, but giving way to Hank was something which went against the grain. He shrugged his shoulders and murmured with disgust, "Aint any food …. an’ its gonna be cold tonight once the sun goes down …"

"We’ll build a fire," replied Hank, withdrawing a box of matches from his back pocket.

"And I’m sure we can survive without a meal for a few hours Sully …. that’s the least of our worries," added Michaela.

Sully turned to face his wife. "Don’ like leavin’ ya Michaela," he said softly.

"I know …. and I don’t like you going," replied Michaela lovingly. "But there’s no choice."

"Guess not." He sighed. "Might come across a homestead up the road a bit …. Aint bin along this way for a long time …. Settlers mighta moved in over the years …." He trailed off, musing over the entire situation. At last he reached a decision. "Alright …. I’ll go …. But not before I make sure there’s enough wood to last ya the night and I’ll try ta find ya something ta eat …"

*********************************

Her fingertips held to her lips which he had so recently soundly kissed, Michaela watched Sully disappear into the distance. He’d already settled into the relaxed loping run which she knew he could keep up for hours. She glanced up into the clear sky. It would be dark in a couple of hours. She sighed.

"Everythin’ll be alright," murmured Hank behind her.

She turned to face the barkeep who has standing uncertainly, leaning heavily on the very rough crutch Sully had fashioned from a sapling. "I know," she replied. "Its just that this isn’t the way I expected our few days together to end."

Hank shrugged his shoulders. "Wasn’ it Marjorie said ya should learn ta expect the unexpected?" He gave her a wry smile.

"Uh huh …. and this situation was *totally* unexpected."

"Well we better make the best of it," said Hank gruffly, leaning the crutch against the tree trunk and painfully lowering himself to the ground.

"That knee still looks very sore ….. you sure you don’t want me to examine it?" inquired Michaela, noting the grimacing as he tried to straighten his leg.

"No offence Michaela …. but the last thing I feel like doin’ right now is …. is ….. lowerin’ my trousers so you can examine somethin’ we both know ya can’t fix …. eh?"

Michaela smiled ruefully. "You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen a thousand times before Hank," she chuckled.

"Yeah …. well … we’ll leave things the way they are for the moment … alright?"

Michaela nodded resignedly. "Alright." There was a long silence, during which Hank removed his gun from his holster, examined the barrel, polished the metal until it shone and then placed it on the ground within easy reach. Michaela eyed the weapon with distaste. Hank, catching her expression out of the corner of her eye, said determinedly, "Even Sully wouldn’ object to me usin’ it if that mountain lion came back."

"It would depend on what the mountain lion was doing wouldn’t it?" responded Michaela.

"If its close enough for me to see … then its close enough to want shootin’," retorted Hank, reaching out to test the distance to the gun. He drew it in a little closer to his leg.

Michaela shook her head in derision. Typical Hank! Shoot first and think later. She said quietly, "Promise me you won’t shoot at just anything that moves …. You’ll think first …"

"Humph …," rejoined Hank. "Ya don’ think much of me do ya Michaela?"

"Not when you’ve got a gun in your hand Hank," she immediately returned. Another humph was his only response. Again there was a long silence, each lost in their own thoughts and reveries. Suddenly Hank sat bolt upright, grasped the gun from the ground and spun around, aiming it on the direction of the noise he’d heard.

"Hey …. hey ….. its only me," exclaimed Sully, advancing slowly into the clearing, his arms held up in surrender.

"Shouldn’ go sneakin’ up on a man Sully …. Could git yourself in trouble …. What’re you doin’ back here anyway?" demanded Hank agitatedly.

"Sully! Is everything alright?" added Michaela anxiously.

Sully held up a water canteen and his jacket. "Found these a hundred yards or so down the trail. Musta come loose from my horse. Thought you could use ‘em," explained Sully, coming over to the pair seated on the ground, and squatting down next to Michaela.

"But what about you!" exclaimed Michaela. "You should have kept them for yourself instead of coming back."

"I won’t need ‘em as much as you." He stood and wandered over to the stream and stooped to fill the canteen to the brim. "I’ll be followin’ the stream all the way inta town an’ I’m gonna git too warm for a jacket."

"Seems ta me it was a waste of time comin’ back," said Hank churlishly. "We’re gonna be stuck here long enough as it is."

"Well Hank …. makin’ sure my wife’s comfortable aint a waste of time to me," replied Sully. He placed the canteen down within Michaela’s reach and draped his jacket over her shoulders. "Alright now?" he asked lovingly. She nodded and he leaned in to give her a light kiss. Michaela gently grasped his sore hand and turned it over to check that the bandaging, made from strips torn from her petticoat, was still secure. "Its fine," he assured her softly.

As he stood, she whispered, "Be careful."

"Aint I always?" he replied with a smile. "I’ll see you soon as I can," he added, as he once again took off in the direction of Colorado Springs. He turned back just once. He directed his clear gaze at Hank. "You look after her … you hear," he ordered in a subdued tone.

For once Hank did not scoff. He merely nodded and like Michaela watched until Sully disappeared into the distance.

******************************

As the sun slowly sank lower in the western sky a chill descended on the clearing high up in the foothills behind Colorado Springs, a chill exacerbated by the awkwardness of the two sitting side by side in the gloom. At last Hank eased himself forward and began to build a fire of the twigs and branches gathered together by Sully before he left. Michaela watched with barely concealed amusement. Having been taught by the best, she couldn’t help but laugh inwardly at Hank’s efforts, but she knew she must not betray herself to him. Of a fiery disposition at the best of times, now was not the time to question or ridicule something he was attempting to do.

At last they sat before a roaring fire in less than companionable silence as darkness settled down upon them. Occasionally Michaela would glance across at the tall saloon owner and as always found his expression inscrutable. He would often flex his sore leg and then his expression *would* change, in fact his brow would crease in pain, but then, as the pain eased, the customary shutters would once again come down. Finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, Michaela tentatively asked, "Hank? ….. What *were* you doing this week? ….. Just riding around on your own?"

The barkeep leant forward and poked at a glowing branch as it threatened to roll from the fire. He shrugged his shoulders. "That’s my business Michaela," he said quietly.

"I know …. but …."

"You heard me …."

Michaela’s head dropped and she bit her lip. "I was just trying to make conversation Hank," she murmured, as she rolled slightly towards him, trying to ease her aching hip and leg.

As if he was ashamed of his curtness, Hank said quietly, "It *is* my business ….. don’ like talkin’ about myself …" When Michaela nodded resignedly and he observed the hurt in her eyes, his own eyes narrowed and he shook his head ruefully. He peered away into the darkness and then turned back to the lady doctor. "Sully tell ya where this trail leads?" he asked, his tone suddenly light, as he finally attempted civility.

Michaela regarded him quizzically. "Uh huh," she murmured in reply. "To an old mine …. um …. Burnham’s I think he said."

"He tell ya that’s where we met up?"

Michaela’s eyes widened. "No!" she exclaimed. "Were you a miner?"

Hank chuckled. "Hardly! Wouldn’ catch me workin’ underground …. Had the saloon …" He trailed off, his thoughts going way back. "Just drinkin’ an’ gamblin’ then …. Didn’ bring in the girls til later … Miners are big drinkers Michaela …. Comes of all that dust …. always thirsty. Havin’ the business up there set me up ….. that’s how I could afford to buy the saloon in Colorado Springs when old Harry died."

"You worked there a long time?"

"Few years ….. last couple I had both saloons ….. spent a lot of time travellin’ this trail …."

"Like Sully …"

He glanced across to gauge her expression and then chuckled again. "Yeah …. like Sully …."

Michaela ran her hand across her sore hip and then down her leg. "What was he like back then?" she asked, trying to keep her inquiry casual.

Hank again shrugged his shoulders. "Don’ know if Sully’d like me talkin’ ‘bout him when he aint here ta defend himself."

"What is there to defend?"

"Humph …. Not much I guess …. Always bin a hard man ta read though …. Him an’ me got kinda friendly over the years at Burnham’s…. Course he didn’ work down in the mines with everyone else …. so we saw more of each other than a lotta the other fellas."

"What did he do then?"

"Anythin’ Burnham asked him to do I guess …. An’ if he had a free coupla hours he’d give me a hand too …."

"In the saloon!"

"Uh huh …. Wasn’ ever much of a drinker though ….. ‘cept when he hadta set some powder …"

"What do you mean?"

"Well …. a year or so after he started there Burnham discovered he’d bin a powder man … so if the regular fella was … ah …. indisposed …. or ….. ah ….. unavailable …. he’d git Sully ta go do it …. Only time I ever saw him take a drink …. He’d come up outta the mine all pale an’ shakin’ an’ head straight for the saloon … Got so I’d have a double waitin’ there on the bar for him …."

Michaela shook her head in wonderment at this unexpected aspect of Sully’s past. "I never knew ….," she murmured.

"Yeah … well …. It’s a long time ago …. He was kinda different then," explained Hank. "Never understood why he was so … so …. scared …. if he’d worked in mines before …."

"Oh that part I *do* understand," rejoined Michaela. "He was involved in a cave-in … before he started at Burnham’s."

"Ahh! …. Funny he never mentioned it …."

"Well you know Sully ….. doesn’t like to talk about himself …. just like someone else I know," chuckled Michaela, eyeing Hank cheekily.

The barkeep gave her a wry smile. "Yeah … well ….," he murmured.

Again Michaela eased her weight off her painful hip and moaned softly. Hank watched her worriedly. "You alright?" he asked.

"Mmmm …. the hip’s sore …. but there’s a …. a …. burning sensation in my leg," replied Michaela, gently rubbing at her thigh, just above the knee.

"Better take a look then …," stated Hank decisively.

Michaela’s eyes flew to his. "I’m …. I’m …. sure it’ll be fine," she said quickly.

"That aint very scientific doc …," retorted Hank, causing Michaela to blush. "Here let me help ya." He eased forward and began to lift the hem of her skirt.

"Hank!" she exclaimed.

He peered up at her, his eyes dancing with laughter. "Ya aint got anythin’ I aint seen hundreds of times before Michaela," he said with a smile, throwing her words mockingly back at her.

"I … I suppose not," stammered Michaela, her blush deepening. "But just because you caught me in a compromising situation earlier today doesn’t mean that you can take liberties," she added more surely.

Instead of being chastened, Hank merely laughed more loudly. "Wouldn’ dream of it," he responded, and then proceeded to fold Michaela’s skirt and petticoat back until her left leg was exposed to the thigh. He drew in a deep breath while Michaela held hers. "Ah …. ya got a bad cut Michaela …. Musta landed on a stick or something when ya came off ya horse …. Bin bleedin’ a lot …. An’ I’d say rubbin’ it has started it bleedin’ agin."

Michaela eased herself more upright, trying to ascertain the extent of the injury. She kept her eyes firmly away from Hank’s. When he reached further up under her skirt to the top of her stocking she reddened and exclaimed, "What are you doing!"

"What’s it look like I’m doin’? Cut needs washin’ an’ the stockin’s in the way," he patiently explained.

"It’ll be fine!"

"No it won’t!" he exhorted. "Needs washin’ I tell ya. For once an’ for all …. I aint gonna do anythin’ improper …. Thought you knew me well enough by now to realise that …" Chastened, Michaela lowered her head and allowed Hank to slowly draw her stocking downwards. She couldn’t help but yelp a little as some of the dried blood pulled painfully away from her inflamed skin. He glanced up at her. "Nearly finished," he said comfortingly. "Now …. you’ll haveta tear some more from the bottom of your petticoat so’s I can wet it an’ wash the cut," he instructed. Michaela nodded, then grasped the ragged ends of her once pretty petticoat and proceeded to rip yet another strip from it. She fleetingly wondered how many petticoats she’d sacrificed over the years to bandages.

******************************

Sully halted, bent over to rest his hands on his knees and took several deep breaths. Despite the chill in the air, he was perspiring freely and his warm breath puffed into the air in clouds of fog. He estimated he was about half way to Colorado Springs. He glanced up into the cloudless, star-filled sky and cursed the fact that the moon was a mere sliver, shedding little light on his path. He’d always enjoyed the woods at night. They normally held little fear for him, but tonight he’d cursed every time a tree root seemed to rear up out of the ground to trip him up, or an overhanging branch slapped his face mockingly. At this rate it would be nearly dawn before he reached the town’s outskirts. At least the sun rose earlier at this time of year. He straightened his aching back and peered into the darkness ahead of him, summoning the energy to start out again. His eyes narrowed. Could that possibly be a light up ahead? About a hundred yards further down the trail and a little to the left? He took a deep, hopeful breath. It made sense. Settlers had been moving onto the territory ever since the Cheyenne had been eradicated. He shook his head ruefully and broke into a run, heading for the light.

As he neared the encampment, the unpleasant smell gave its presence and purpose away. Moonshine! His heart fell. Moonshiners were notoriously uncooperative. He approached the campfire cautiously, silently observing the smallish, balding man sitting hunched over, rhythmically rocking back and forth, an uncorked jug resting in his lap. Perhaps the fellow was drunk. He called softly so as not to startle him, "Hey …." The scruffy man’s head flew up and his body tensed as Sully walked into the firelight, his hands in clear view.

"And who might you be … an’ where did ya come from?" The man’s rough voice was slightly slurred but clear enough to ascertain that he wasn’t completely drunk. His bloodshot eyes were hooded.

"Name’s Sully." He continued to walk towards the man his hand held out. As he got within reach, the man, who continued to regard him suspiciously, also held his hand out, more through habit than conscious thought. "Walt …. Walt Gates," he offered warily.

"Had some trouble ‘bout ten miles back," Sully explained, shaking Walt’s hand and sitting down beside him in front of the comforting fire.

The dishevelled man’s dark brown eyes narrowed. "What sorta trouble? he asked suspiciously.

"Mountain lion spooked our horses …"

"Our! Who else’s with ya?" Walt immediately demanded, his head turning from side to side as if he expected an army to walk in on him.

"Me, my wife an’ a friend," explained Sully calmly. "Had ta leave the two of ‘em behind …. both injured."

"Bad?"

"Nah …. Don’ think so …. But they couldn’ walk …. So I came on alone …. Wondered if I could borrow a horse …. Gotta git help to git ‘em home."

Again the man’s bleary eyes narrowed and then he suddenly gave Sully an odd lopsided smile, accentuated by a number of missing and broken teeth. "Sorry …. horse’s lame …. Has bin for days …. Wouldn’ git more ‘an a hundred yards before it let ya down." His toneless voice belied his words of contrition.

Sully’s shoulders sagged. "Any other settlers along this trail?" he asked hopefully, not really expecting a truthful answer. Moonshiners seldom made themselves known to neighbours.

"Closest is ‘bout ‘nother eight mile or so," Walt replied, handing Sully the jug from his lap. "Ya got quite a journey still …. Could do with some of this I reckon …"

Sully schooled his face to remain passive. Even the smell of the stuff turned his stomach. "Ah … thanks for the offer …. but I wouldn’ git too far if I tried some of that …. Can’t hold my liquor ….."

Walt chuckled. "Ya soon git used to it when its your only comfort," he said, lifting it to his own lips and taking a deep swig. As he lowered the jug, he wiped his mouth with his dirty sleeve and smiled contentedly. "Don’ make a bad drop," he murmured, almost to himself.

Sully eyed the man ruefully. It seemed he was going to be of little help. He stood and stretched. "Well …. I better ….."

"Where do ya think you’re goin’?" Walt suddenly demanded.

Taken aback by the unexpected question, Sully replied uncertainly, "Gotta git goin’ …. Gotta git help for my wife ….."

With a speed which was contrary to all his other movements, Walt abruptly reached behind himself and seized an old rifle. In one sure movement he had it cocked and aimed at Sully’s stomach. "Ya aint goin’ anywhere," he said menacingly. "I don’ often git company out here …. You’re stayin’ a while …."

"But …"

"No buts …. You’re stayin’ …," the madman ordered. He waved the rifle barrel, indicating a spot a few yards away, in front of the fire. "Sit yourself there … *Now*."

**********************************

"That feel better?" asked Hank, as Michaela smoothed her crumpled skirt and once more eased herself back against the oak.

"Mmmm … much ….. the cold water’s eased the stinging," she replied. "Thanks."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Aint nothin’." He stared into the fire. It was eerie sitting here, unable to see anything beyond the few feet of clearing the firelight illuminated. In the woods surrounding them were wild creatures and untamed wilderness, but here, in their one small patch of the world, there was just the two of them and the leaping flames. "Wonder how far Sully’s got by now," he mused. "Mighty dark out there …"

"That won’t worry Sully …. He’s used to the woods at night," replied Michaela, her eyes too fixed on the flames.

Hank regarded her profile thoughtfully. She had such faith in her husband, such belief. It made him think of something he’d heard touched on earlier. "Michaela?" he said quietly. "What did Sully mean this afternoon when he said he’d had ta carry ya though the woods before?"

Michaela turned to look at him, her mind racing with memories of the terrifying ordeal some years before. "It was after he rescued me from the dog soldiers ….. they’d taken me from that woman’s cabin …. remember?" she replied soberly.

Hank nodded and tried to think back to how much he actually knew of that time. He recalled discussing with Loren and Horace whether Michaela would ever come out of it alive ….. or …. in one piece. He remembered Sully bringing her back to town after three days, her clothes in tatters. No-one had had the courage to ask her what’d actually happened. They’d all let Sully and her family look after her. "Why did ya need carryin’?" he asked, needing to know, yet dreading the possible answer.

Michaela lowered her eyes to the ground and she absent-mindedly drew circles in the dust with her fingertip as she spoke. "I tried to get away … escape …. Their punishment was to take my boots and stockings and then to march me for hours through the woods until my feet were raw and bleeding," she explained, her tone subdued. "When Sully finally rescued me my feet had swollen and stiffened and I couldn’t walk. We rested during the day and then he carried me for hours …. through the night …. and into the next morning ….." She trailed off suddenly remembering their fearful climb up the hill face, pursued by the dog soldiers intent on killing, and then their breathtaking jump into the freezing water of the river. She shuddered.

Hank noticed. "I’m sorry Michaela … I didn’ mean to drag up painful memories …. Shoulda left it alone …."

"Its alright Hank ….. it was a long time ago ….. and it could’ve been so much worse …."

Without thinking, he asked, "They didn’ ….." Realising what he’d been about to say, he paused, his heart pounding a little. How did this woman manage to arouse such mixed feelings in him? One minute he wanted to strangle her and the next protect her with his life.

"No they didn’t," she said quietly, anticipating his question. "But not for want of trying."

He unconsciously sighed in relief. If Michaela heard it she gave him no sign.

******************************

Sully watched intently as Walt’s head nodded forward, his body slumping even further, then suddenly straightening again, fighting the sleep which threatened to overwhelm him. This had been happening for some time now and he was somewhat frustratedly awaiting his chance. Walt held his rifle cradled in his arms, much as Sully often held Katie, and for the past couple of hours he’d been taking generous swigs from the jug which now stood at his feet. As for conversation? There had been little, and what little there’d been had gradually become more and more incoherent in proportion to the amount of moonshine the man consumed. And yet Sully instinctively knew that he had to be patient. The speed with which he’d become Walt’s captive had surprised him. He was not going to under-estimate the man again.

At last the moonshiner’s bald head dropped forward and stayed there, his stubbly chin resting on his chest, his gnarled hands relaxing on the rifle butt. He was breathing deeply, his breath emerging in regular audible grunts. Sully’s muscles tensed. He slowly lifted himself from the ground, careful to make no sound. He stood for a moment observing the disreputable man as he slept. Deciding that the best course of action was to disappear into the shadows, rather than try to divest Walt of his weapon, he backed stealthily away and, as he attained the far reaches of the firelight, turned and began to walk more quickly. He’d gone only a few feet when he barely caught the swish of something moving swiftly through the air behind him before hard wood and metal crashed violently against his skull. He gasped and his body slumped to the ground as spiralling darkness descended upon him.

Walt stood over him, shaking his head despondently, his trusty rifle held securely in his work-worn hands. "Now what ya have ta do that for?" he said derisively. Then he suddenly grinned crazily. "I was just startin’ ta enjoy ya company."

*****************************

Michaela lay on her side facing the fire, her head pillowed on the bunched up sleeve of Sully’s buckskin jacket. She told herself she could smell his scent in the old leather, and she momentarily turned her eyes to the heavens and prayed that he was alright, that he was safe. She hadn’t been able to fall asleep. It wasn’t just the pain in her hip and leg. It was the situation. The last person she’d ever have expected to be alone with out in the woods was Hank. She had a feeling he wasn’t sleeping either.

A creature in the bushes behind her abruptly moved and she started, lifting her head momentarily, listening.

"You always as skittish when ya in the woods?" asked Hank quietly. He was stretched out before the fire to her left. "When ya with Sully?"

She reddened guiltily.

"Nah .. thought not," he admonished. "I can protect ya just as good as him ya know."

"I know …. I’m sorry ….. its just the situation Hank," appeased Michaela. "And the children will be wondering where we are."

"They know which way you were headed?"

Michaela lowered her eyes. "No," she replied quietly. "*We* didn’t know until we got going …. I ….. I ….. needed a break …. and ……"

Hank chuckled. "Ya don’ haveta explain to me Michaela ….. I seen you two together …. Ya tend ta forget where you are ….an’ who’s watchin’…."

Michaela blushed.

"Aint as bad as that ….. don’ go gettin’ embarrassed ….," Hank placated. "When you first came ta town …. I never woulda guessed you’d fall for a fella like Sully ….."

Michaela glanced over at the barkeep. "You don’t like him much …. do you Hank?" she asked abruptly.

Hank eyed her speculatively. Was she prying again? Trying to get him riled up? Her eyes conveyed nothing but intense interest. "Tell ya the truth Michaela …. I don’ understand him …. never have …. probably never will …..," he replied, deciding to be honest.

"Even back when you worked with him at the mine?"

"Well …. He was different to the way he is now …. But there were still things that were puzzlin’."

"Like what?"

"Well ……" He paused for a minute, staring off into space, then quietly explained, "He was the best with a rifle I ever seen …… could line up a deer at a hundred paces an’ bring it down in one clean shot …. Never had ta put a beast outta its misery …. it never knew what hit it …… But even if a fella drew first, he wouldn’ hold a gun to a man …. And then, like I said, I knew how he was about goin’ down in the mine … an’ I knew he was afraid of horses ….. But when it came to a fight …. specially if someone needed defendin’ …. he was first in there …. Course back then he didn’t use all that fancy injun stuff …. just his fists an’ his speed."

"None of that surprises me," murmured Michaela.

"Yeah well ….. I spose we all got our differences ….," Hank mused. "Course he changed after he lost Abagail," he suddenly added scornfully.

Michaela’s eyes flew to Hank’s. "Why do you say it like that?" she demanded. "He suffered a great loss."

"I know that!" The tone of his voice suddenly rose in anger. "So did Loren an’ Maude …. But ya didn’ see ‘em disappearing for nearly a year ….. an’ then reappearin’ wearin’ buckskin an’ livin’ in the words with injuns did ya? You didn’ see them refusin’ to carry a rifle or wearin’ injun beads!" he expostulated. He suddenly sat up and agitatedly prodded a glowing ember in the dying fire. "Loren needed him …. an’ he disappeared, left the homestead to ruin an’ took off."

"Loren needed him!?" exclaimed Michaela. "Loren hated him for taking Abagail away from him!" She too sat up, unconsciously rubbing at her aching hip.

"Loren never hated him …. resented him yes …. didn’ understand him maybe …. But he didn’ hate him …. Loren’s bark is a lot worse than his bite, an’ when Abagail died he needed Sully, but the man disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Maybe Sully needed someone too," murmured Michaela, overwhelmed at what she was learning and Hank’s vehemence, his anger.

"Yeah …. he found someone didn’ he? Only it were injuns ……," he snorted scornfully.

"Sully said Cloud Dancing saved his life."

"Maybe he did …. But that aint no reason to go turnin’ your back on your own," scoffed Hank. "Sully mighta bin a loner …. but he had the respect of a lotta people in town …. the way he stood up to Loren an’ provided for Abigail ….. but that respect went out the window when he took up with injuns."

"Are you talking on your own behalf or on behalf of the whole town Hank?"

Hank eyed her warily and then ruefully shook his head. "You saw how people looked at him when you first came …. You saw how he didn’ join in with folk … didn’ ya? He’s an injun lover an’ there aint no place for ‘em in a civilised town …."

"You still think that? …. After all this time?" marvelled Michaela, feeling hurt for her husband.

"All I seen comes from injuns is killin’ …..," murmured Hank. "An’ don’ go lecturin’ me Michaela …. Heard enough of that over the years …."

"All I’ll say Hank is that there are good and bad in any race ….. Cloud Dancing’s never done anything to hurt you, has he? Or Snow Bird, or even Black Kettle when they were still alive?" questioned Michaela earnestly.

"That was a long time ago Michaela …."

"Exactly! I just wish you could see them the same way Sully and I do."

"Well that aint ever gonna happen ….. I guess I’ll never understand Sully an’ what he’s done over the years …"

"But I’ve seen you stand beside him in times of trouble …. or when someone needed help…. Worked alongside him when you wanted to …..," Michaela appealed.

"Sure …. don’ mean I don’ like *all* he does …. Seen him stand up for folks who needed someone ….. or helpin’ folks …. But I’ll still never understand him …..especially when it comes to spendin’ so much time an’ energy on injuns."

"I’m sorry about that Hank …. He’s a good man …."

"Yeah well ….. they say love is blind Michaela."

"Oh but it isn’t ….. It isn’t at all …. Its understanding ….. and forgiving ….. and accepting. I *do* love him …." She lowered her eyes and her voice dropped in tone, "More than I ever thought possible …… and because of that I understand and accept his actions …. the way he thinks ……"

"Well one day ya might let me in on the secret …. but right now its time ta sleep," rejoined Hank, suddenly dismissing the subject. He slid down until he was once again laying on his side facing the fire. "Night Michaela," he said resolutely.

She took a deep breath. One day … perhaps …. she might make him understand …. She’d never give up on that. "Goodnight Hank," she replied. She painfully lay down on her side and pulled Sully’s jacket closer around herself. She fingered the well worn leather, closed her eyes and wished her husband a loving goodnight also.

******************************

Michaela woke to the sound of Hank trying to rekindle the fire, an occasional expletive being uttered under his breath. She cautiously opened her eyes and realised that it was only just after dawn. The sky had a slight pinkish tinge and the air a chill which seemed to seep into the bones. She moaned as she tried to turn over and then sit up. Every muscle seemed to have stiffened and her hip felt sorer to the touch. She wondered how much bruising had reached the skin surface by now. She was willing to wager she was going to be a vivid shade of black and blue for the next couple of weeks. She wrapped Sully’s jacket more securely around herself and glanced across at Hank. He was huddled before the fire, as close as he could get without being in it, his arms folded around himself. He had a lit cigar hanging from his mouth and thick stubble adorned his chin. "Are you alright Hank?" she asked worriedly.

"Nothin’ a blanket, some hot coffee an’ a plate of Grace’s eggs wouldn’ fix," he replied irritably, flicking the ash from the end of his cigar into the flames.

Michaela looked guiltily down at the buckskin jacket she wore. "Would you like to wear this for a while?" she asked without thinking.

Hank’s eyes flew to hers and he chuckled wryly. "Now wouldn’ that be gentlemanly? ….. Takin’ a jacket from a lady when its freezin’ …. Can just imagine what Sully’d say ‘bout that!"

Michaela smiled. "He’d understand Hank. You’re frozen. At least I’ve had the jacket all night and the fire’s built up now." She started to undo the buttons on the front. "The sun will be warmer soon. I’ll be fine."

Hank leant across and stilled her hands. "*I’ll* be fine. Thanks for the offer, but whatever ya might think of me …. I aint gonna take somethin’ from a lady when she needs it herself."

Michaela blushed.

"See ….ya learn somethin’ new ‘bout me all the time …. don’ ya Michaela?" Hank smiled.

"No …. that’s something I already knew Hank …. For all our altercations over the years …. you’ve never *done* anything improper …. Something for which I’m grateful…." Michaela nodded her head in his direction and then sidled a little closer to the fire. "But I wish you hadn’t mentioned coffee and eggs ….. it’s a long time since yesterday’s lunch. The berries Sully found might have been tasty but no-one would consider them filling."

"Yeah …. No man …. or woman …. could live on that stuff for long …. What I’d give for a heaped plate of scrambled eggs with a side order of potatoes." He gave her a wink.

"With steaming coffee ….. and hot buttered biscuits," added Michaela for good measure.

"Alright …. alright …. enough of this game! …. We’ll both go crazy before Sully gits back here," Hank chortled, holding his hands out to the flames. "Wonder where he is ‘bout now?" he mused. "If nothin’ happened ….. an’ I’m sure it didn’ ….. he should be in Colorado Springs by now."

"Mmmm …. I hope so …. At least the children will know what happened and that we’re safe," commented Michaela, copying his actions, her hands stinging with the intense heat.

They sat in silence for a long while, the awakening birds their only company, until, out of the corner of her eye, Michaela spied movement on the creek bank some twenty yards down. She smiled as the tan fawn tentatively dipped a hoof in the water and then bent to drink. Such unique observations in these Colorado woods always made her feel as if everything was alright with the world.

Hank, noting Michaela’s stillness and the direction of her eyes, turned and spotted the fawn. He drew in a sharp breath. Stealthily, his hand moved down to the gun resting on the ground by his knee and he grasped it firmly, setting his forefinger on the trigger. Trying not to attract any attention, he slowly raised the imposing weapon until he had his prey in line with the barrel. He cocked it and began to squeeze the trigger.

Distracted by the sound of metal against metal Michaela swung around just as Hank had the deer in his sights. "No Hank! Please!" she exclaimed pleadingly.

Hank’s eyes flew to hers. "Whatdya mean no!" he hissed. "You’re lookin’ at food Michaela. Food!"

"Please don’t Hank," she pleaded again. "Are *you* going to skin it and cut it up? And with what?" Hank was wavering. She could see it in his eyes, his posture. "Let it be …. please …. for me …."

The gun was abruptly lowered and Hank snorted in disgust. "Women!" he scoffed. "You’re as hard ta understand as ya husband!" He laid the gun down and threw a branch on the fire, sending a shower of sparks high into the air. "Sooner we git home the better," he murmured scornfully. "Much longer in your company an’ I won’ know who I am anymore!" He reached behind himself and grasped the crudely made crutch. He heaved himself upright and hesitantly leaned his weight on his sore knee. When it didn’t buckle under him he began to hobble away into a thicket.

"Where are you going?" exclaimed Michaela anxiously.

He gave her a look of disgust. "A doctor oughta be able to figure that out Michaela ….. just let me be …" and he disappeared into the woods.