For personal use and select distribution only © by Becky 2008

Michaela and Sully stepped out of the bank, holding hands. Michaela's purse was heavy with bills and coins from a bank note they had just cashed. Sully had recently finished raising a barn at the old Farley homestead a young couple had just bought, and received generous pay for his work in return. Michaela's clinic was thriving as well what with the way the town was growing and how Preston insisted Andrew only treat hotel guests and leave everyone else to Michaela. She had very little competition at the moment and was making a good living. It was nice not to worry about money for once. Their debts were paid, the children had new clothes and shoes that fit and all the school supplies they needed, and financially they had never been so stable. The recession that had hit Colorado and the entire country several years back finally seemed to be subsiding. Things were looking up not just for the Sully family, but for almost everyone in town.

Sully held Eliza over his shoulder as they headed to the store. "How 'bout some sugar from Mr. Bray's? You want sugar?" He gave her hair a little kiss. She was a happy, beautiful baby, with rosy cheeks, sparkling blue eyes and dark brown hair. At six months old, her baby teeth were just starting to come in. She had one little tooth on the bottom, but otherwise she was all gums.

"Sully, she's too young for that," Michaela protested.

"Little taste won't hurt her," he replied.

"Just don't tell Claudette," she said. "She thinks we spoil the children enough as it is."

"Don't plan to," he replied wryly.

"Ow!" a young man suddenly cried from the barbershop.

"Hold still, boy!" a deeper voice said. "Let him get a look-see."

Michaela couldn't resist investigating. She walked up the barbershop steps and inside, Sully following behind.

A man in his forties wearing a cowboy hat and vest was watching Jake's every move. Jake had his patient, possibly the man's son, reclined in his chair, mouth open wide, and was poking inside with a dental pick and a tiny mirror.

"Golly, that hurts! Leave it be!" the patient protested. He was about eighteen years old, and was holding his hat in his lap.

"Jake? What seems to be the matter?" Michaela asked.

"Everything's under control, Dr. Mike," Jake said.

"Wisdom teeth?" Michaela replied, standing on tiptoe to try to see inside.

"You a dentist, too?" the older man asked, glancing at Michaela with surprise.

"No, I'm the town doctor," she replied. "But I've done a little dental work in my practice. How long has he been in pain?"

"Couple days now. Me and my boy here been on the road about a month, headed East."

"East?"

"Yes, ma'am. We tried to strike it rich in California, but, well, as you can see things didn't work out as well as we hoped. So we decided to go back to where we came from, Burlington. Then the boy started complainin' of a toothache. Came on so sudden and got so bad last night he was awake all night moanin' like a pack of wolves. We stopped in the nearest town we could find and that's where we came across your kind barber here."

"It'll have to come out," Jake said, straightening.

"Do you mind if I take a look, Mr. �?" Michaela asked.

"Sawyer. Tobias Sawyer. That there's my boy Jason. Suit yourself."

Michaela took the dental pick from Jake and tipped the young man's head back. "Just try to hold still," she instructed. "I'll be as gentle as I can." She examined the back of his mouth for a long moment. "Mesial impaction, both lower molars. The right one looks infected."

"What's this all mean?" Tobias asked.

"Jake's right, they'll need to come out and as soon as possible," she said. "I'm afraid you won't be traveling for a few days, Mr. Sawyer."

"That's all right, long as the boy feels better. Can you do it, Mr. Slicker?" Tobias asked.

Jake cleared his throat. "Well, I � I've never seen wisdom teeth impacted like that," he admitted grudgingly.

"Unfortunately this is going to be a little more complicated than pulling out a loose tooth," Michaela said. "I could do the procedure for you. I'd put him to sleep with a little chloroform and perform the extraction. And I can give him some morphine afterward to help with the pain. Perhaps Mr. Slicker could assist."

"Yeah. Sure," Jake muttered.

"Morphine, that sounds mighty good," Jason spoke up.

"How much this all going to cost?" Tobias asked quietly.

"Well, I � " Michaela glanced outside at their meager covered wagon. She didn't have the heart to charge them full price given how impoverished they obviously were. "Twenty-five cents," she finally said, glancing at Sully.

He discreetly nodded his approval as he rubbed Eliza's back. So many people had been generous to Michaela and Sully when they were going through rough times, now that things were better they could return the favor.

"Well, you can't beat that. All right, where's your hospital?" Tobias replied.

"Just down the street." Michaela grasped the young man's arm. "Come on, Jason. You're going to start feeling better very soon."

He held his jaw with one hand as he got up from the chair. "Good."

"You in California long?" Sully asked conversationally as he rested one boot on Michaela's bench and sat Eliza on his thigh, bouncing her gently every so often to keep her happy.

"Long enough. About six months," Tobias replied, seated on the bench with his hat beside him.

"Lotta folks strikin' it rich out there?"

"No, not anymore. Gold rush is over. Been over twenty years. Shoulda known. Boy and I, we saved up a little gold dust here and there. Not much. Enough to start a business back here."

"What kinda business?"

"Gonna build a little supply store, supply all the ranchers with their needs. That's all Burlington is, ranchers."

"Sounds like a good idea."

Cloud Dancing came out of the store, a large pouch slung over his shoulder, and walked toward the clinic. "Sully," he called.

Sully brightened and walked over to him, hugging him. "Cloud Dancin'. What brings you to town?"

"Supplies. I'm heading up north for awhile to hunt. I hear the game is good up there." He smiled at Eliza and caressed her dark, wispy hair. "Me'esevotse."

"Kirk says he heard talk a couple buffalo been spotted not far from the border. On Reservation land."

"I have heard this also. The young ones go to find them. I go with them."

"You be safe." He shook with him. "Good luck."

Cloud Dancing nodded and turned around, heading to his horse tethered outside Loren's store.

"Didn't know there were still Indians around these parts," Tobias remarked, gazing at Cloud Dancing.

Sully returned to the bench, rubbing Eliza's back. "A few."

"They must be on a Reservation. Is it far?"

"Just outside town. Couple miles East."

Tobias glanced at the clinic door. "Wonder what could be takin' so long."

"Sure everything's fine," Sully said reassuringly, taking a seat beside him.

"Forceps," Michaela said.

Jake handed her the dental extractor designed for wisdom teeth off the sterile tray. Michaela positioned the instrument on Jason's tooth, made sure it was secured tightly, and then gave a mighty pull for a long moment. The tooth finally came loose along with a small splatter of blood.

"Cotton," she said.

Jake stuffed one side of the young man's cheek with a large roll of cotton.

Michaela placed the tooth on another tray and then dried her hands off with a towel as she prepared to extract the other tooth. She watched her patient curiously a moment. His skin was rather clammy and his breathing was suddenly sounding labored.

"Let's go, Dr. Mike. I have haircuts to do," Jake said.

"Does he seem pale to you?" She felt Jason's forehead. It was damp and very cool to the touch. "Jake, take the chloroform away. Now."

Jake removed the cloth from over the young man's mouth. "He don't look so good now that you say so."

Michaela took out her stethoscope and listened to his heart. She felt his wrist with her free hand. "Heartbeat's far too fast. He's going into shock. We have to wake him up." She hurried to her medicine cabinet and tore through it looking for the right medicines.

"Dr. Mike! I don't think he's breathing!" Jake suddenly shouted.

Michaela hurried back with a few bottles of medicine. She handed one to Jake. "Smelling salts. Put it under his nose."

Jake opened the bottle and held it beneath the boy's nose. Meanwhile Michaela filled a syringe with atropine sulphate and injected it into his arm. She whipped out her stethoscope again and listened to his heart.

"No heartbeat," she said fearfully.

"It's not working," Jake said, shaking his head.

Michaela filled the syringe again, giving him yet another dose. She listened to his heart again. "Jason, no. You have to wake up. You have to breathe," she ordered. She patted his cheek firmly. "Jason! Wake up!" She turned to the atropine again and filled the syringe once more.

Jake stopped her, grasping her wrist in his hand. "It's no use, Dr. Mike," he murmured.

She slowly lowered the syringe in defeat. "Oh, my God. Jake, he's dead."

"What happened?"

"I don't know. He just went into shock. It must have been a reaction to the chloroform. Usually it's very safe, but � "

He folded his arms pensively. "You're gonna have to tell his pa. Right away."

She nodded, slowly pulling off her sleeve protectors.

"We'll both tell him," he added reassuringly.

"I don't understand," Tobias said numbly as he stood on the clinic porch.

"Most patients tolerate chloroform just fine," Michaela explained hoarsely. "But unfortunately in a very small number of cases it can cause a patient to go into cardiac arrest. Their heart stops."

Sully was standing with Tobias, tenderly holding the baby over his shoulder. Michaela could tell he was reliving the pain of losing a child right along with him.

Tobias shook his head in disbelief. "But it was just a wisdom tooth!"

"Has he had an operation before? Has he ever been put under before?" Michaela asked.

"No. Never before." He shook his head. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell me it could kill him?! I never woulda put his life in your hands!"

"It's just so rare for it to happen," she explained helplessly. "This has never happened to me before in my practice. Every doctor I've ever known has never had a problem with chloroform. I've only read about a few isolated cases in my medical journals."

"Damn your medical journals. You killed my son!" He lunged at her, but Sully quickly grabbed him and held him back.

"Take it easy," Sully said.

"Wasn't her fault," Jake spoke up.

"Let me see him," he choked. "Let me see my boy. Please."

"Of course," Michaela whispered, stepping aside and allowing him to enter the main room. Jake went with him while Sully lingered behind. He shut the door after them and then gave Michaela a tight hug.

"You all right?" he whispered.

She nodded. "You should take the baby home, feed her a bottle. And go help Mother with the children. They've been with her all afternoon." She gave Eliza's head a soft kiss.

"Sure ya don't want me to stay here?" he replied.

"There's nothing you can do," she said. "I'll be along shortly."

It was nearly eleven o'clock when Michaela finally returned to the homestead. She tiredly unsaddled Flash and gave her some oats and fresh water, and then came inside and went up to the bedroom.

Sully was dozing sitting up in bed, the baby tucked up along his chest fast asleep. He opened his eyes as she crossed the room to the vanity.

"Hey," he whispered. "I was gettin' worried."

She unbuttoned the back of her dress. "He wouldn't leave him," she explained. "It took Jake and Robert E. and the Reverend to finally pull him away."

He smoothed Eliza's hair lovingly. "He'll get through it."

"I should have told him chloroform is sometimes deadly," she murmured as she stepped out of her dress. "He's right, he wasn't fully informed."

"Michaela, ya said yourself how small a risk that is. Nobody's ever died before."

"I suppose." She slipped off her chemise and pantaloons and then took out a nightgown, putting it over her head and buttoning it up. Then she removed the pins from her hair and brushed through it a few times, tears welling in her eyes.

"Come 'ere," Sully whispered.

She put the brush aside and joined him in bed, cuddling up in his embrace.

"Don't go second-guessing yourself," he said. "You're a good doctor, always were."

"Objectively I know that. Chloroform has its risks, but we've come so far from the days when doctors had nothing to give patients but whiskey. Before we had any kind of anesthetic there were even reports of patients dying from fear at the thought of being conscious during their surgery. Chloroform has made surgical procedures much easier on both patients and doctors." She swallowed hard as a tear slipped down her cheek. "But when I saw him weeping over his son. Oh, Sully. Jason's not some rare statistic. He was that man's child."

"Guess we understand that hurt a little better, now that we lost our own," he whispered.

She nodded emotively and reached her arm up to rub Eliza's back. "I just don't know what to do now," she admitted.

"Ya go on," he replied. "Keep practicin' medicine. Keep usin' the medicines you know are best. Ya keep bein' a doctor." He kissed her reassuringly. "Get some sleep. I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied.

"It's just terrible," Elizabeth remarked as she sat down at the breakfast table. "That poor father."

Sully placed Eliza in her high chair and drew her close to the table, then opened the stove to add another log.

"The Reverend said he took up a collection so Mr. Sawyer can take his son home on tomorrow's train," Michaela explained as she and Katie cracked some eggs into a bowl.

"How did he die, Mama?" Kate asked quietly.

"Well, the medicine I gave him to help him sleep during the operation made his heart stop," she explained. "But that's something that doesn't usually happen."

Katie swallowed hard and bent her head.

Michaela wiped her hands off on a towel and put her arm around her, holding her close. "It's all right, sweetheart. Mama's sad about this, too. But your papa reminded me that I did the best job I knew how. This never happened before, and probably won't happen again. It was just a bad accident."

"Is his pa mad at you?" she asked.

"Yes, a little. In time those feelings will lessen as he comes to terms with this." She kissed her head and then picked up a fork to beat the eggs. "Where are the boys with the milk?"

"I'll go get 'em," Sully said, walking across the room and opening the front door.

Byron and Red Eagle were walking toward the porch carrying the milk bucket. Byron gave Red Eagle a big, playful shove. Red Eagle put the milk bucket on the ground and shoved back with a giggle. Suddenly Byron grabbed him around the waist and wrestled him to the ground. They tumbled around in the dust, narrowly missing the milk bucket.

"Boys!" Sully called.

Red Eagle pulled Byron's hair and he screeched and kicked his legs, suddenly knocking over the milk bucket. Milk spilled in a large puddle and was quickly absorbed into the dry ground.

"Hey. What're ya fightin' about?" Sully asked, hurrying over to them and helping them to their feet.

"Nothin', Papa," Byron said. "We're playing."

"Yeah, we're not fighting, Pa," Red Eagle added.

"Ya see what your playin' did?" Sully asked.

"What?" Byron replied innocently.

Sully gestured at the prostrate milk bucket.

"Oh," Byron murmured.

"Oh," Red Eagle echoed.

Sully picked up the bucket. "Come on, let's go tell your ma. She ain't gonna be happy there's no milk for breakfast."

"Do we have to?" Red Eagle said.

He smiled to himself. "Yeah, we have to."

Michaela led the children up the store steps, her arm around Byron and Eliza in her other arm. There was a middle aged, rather dirty man lingering on the porch in raggedy clothes and a thick beard. He had a paper sign around his neck that read "War veteran, will work for food" and was shaking a tin cup with some change in it.

"Who's that, Mama?" Katie asked quietly.

"I don't know," she replied, guiding the children inside where Loren was grumpily going through his cash box.

"Good morning, Loren," she said as the children headed off to the toy shelves. "We need some coffee and some flour."

He trudged off to his shelves to retrieve the dry goods.

"Loren, who's that man outside?" Michaela asked, sitting the baby on the counter. "The one with the sign."

"He's still there?" he demanded. "I told him to leave three times!"

"You told him to leave? Why?" she replied blankly.

"Because it's bad for business, that's why."

"How?"

"When you own a mercantile, you'll understand," he replied.

"His sign says he's a war veteran. Perhaps he was wounded. I feel sorry for him."

"Why don't you invite him to stand outside your clinic you feel so sorry for him? Be my guest."

"Well, of course he wants to stand here where he'll run into the most people," Michaela said.

"One dollar, ten cents," Loren said impatiently, holding out his hand.

She opened her purse and handed him the cash, then placed the flour and coffee in her basket. "He's not hurting anything, Loren," she said.

"That's what you think," he muttered as the Reverend came down the stairs carrying his Bible.

"Oh, good morning, Reverend," Michaela said, lifting the baby off the counter and approaching him.

"Mornin', Dr. Mike."

"How's Mr. Sawyer?" she asked quietly.

He sighed. "Holding up, I suppose. I'm going to head back over to the boarding house right now and talk to him again, help him with the arrangements."

She bit her lip. "Do you think perhaps I should come with you?"

"I � I don't think that's a good idea."

"Oh," she murmured.

"He'll be all right, Dr. Mike. Something like this, it's just gonna take some time." He reached out and grasped her hand, squeezing it. "You did the best you could. He knows that, deep down."

She watched him make his way out of the store.

"Children, come along," Michaela finally called softly. The children scurried obediently over. Loren hadn't offered them candy like he usually did, but the children politely didn't ask for any. "Good day, Loren," she added.

Loren just grumbled and grabbed his broom.

Michaela paused in front of the man standing outside.

"I'm Dr. Mike," she said kindly. "These are my children."

"Hey," Byron spoke up shyly.

"Morning," the man replied with a soft smile.

"I don't think I've seen you around before. Are you new in town?" Michaela asked, shifting the baby to her other hip.

"Yes, ma'am. Made my way down from Denver a couple days back."

"Dr. Mike," Loren called impatiently. "Now you're blockin' my store, too."

She chuckled softly. "I think that's our cue. Good day." She opened her purse, found a few dimes and placed them in his rattling cup.

"God bless you," he said.

She smiled at him and headed to the clinic.

"Why did you give that man money, Mama?" Katie asked.

"He's homeless and probably hungry," Michaela said. "Perhaps he'll be able to get something to eat with that."

"What's a veteran?" Red Eagle asked.

"It means he fought in the war," she explained.

"The Civil War?" Byron asked.

"That's right. Before you were born."

"Oh. He musta been brave then," Byron remarked, looking back at the man reverently. The man gave him a little wave and he smiled back shyly.

"Yes, they were all very brave," she said, squeezing her shoulder. "Come on, you need to get to school or you'll be late. And I need to get to the clinic."

"No, you have nothing to feel guilty about of course," Andrew said reassuringly as he laid a few coins on the table to pay for his and Michaela's coffee. "I would have done the same thing."

Michaela stood and put her napkin aside and grabbed the back of the baby carriage. "I still wonder if I should have been more cautious with someone who's never taken chloroform before. Perhaps all doctors should."

He followed her out of the caf�. "Chloroform's the safest drug we know to put people under. Why, it's even been used on infants as young as a few days old with great success. I think we take all the precautions we can."

"You're right," she said. "Thank you for the support, Andrew. I'll see you around town."

He tipped his hat. "Have a good day."

Michaela wheeled the carriage onto the porch and lifted Eliza out. Then she opened the door, surprised to find Sully waiting for her in the center of the room, leaning on a large piece of furniture covered by a white sheet.

"Sully, what are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were helping Brian with his snares today."

"I was. But then I decided it might be fun to surprise ya."

"Surprise me?"

"Yeah." He stepped back to reveal the covered piece of furniture. "Surprise."

"What is it?" she asked skeptically.

"Why don't ya go look," he encouraged, taking the baby from her and rubbing her back. The baby eyed the covered piece with as much curiosity and skepticism as her mother. In fact Sully had to chuckle at the way their brows were furrowed in exactly the same way.

Michaela reluctantly pulled back the sheet to reveal a stunning examination table. It had comfortable black leather padding and was made of heavy, stained wood. It was Sully's work, she could tell immediately. His furniture was always of the highest quality.

"You made this?" she breathed.

"I was gonna give it to ya for your birthday comin' up. But I thought maybe ya should have it a little early."

She reached out and touched the leather. "Oh, Sully, it's beautiful. Thank you."

He came toward her and rubbed her back. "Thought maybe what with what happened, you could use a reminder you're still real good at what ya do. Best doctor any patient could hope for."

She turned toward him and hugged him tearfully. "This means so much to me. And your support. I love you."

He kissed her in reply and caressed her cheek just as her next appointment rang the bell outside. "I best leave ya to do your doctorin'."

She smiled at him lovingly. "I'll see you at home."

"Good," he replied wryly, handing her back the baby.

"All right, I'm closin' up," Loren said grumpily as he walked out to the porch where the war veteran was still shaking his can of change. "You can go on with ya now."

"Have a nice night, Mr. Bray," he said.

"Hmm," he replied, slamming the door behind him and heading for the caf� where he was going to meet Dorothy for supper.

The veteran leaned against a crate of apples and counted up his coins for the day. Tobias Sawyer slowly wandered over from the boarding house, tossing a cigar to the side and crushing it with his boot.

"You there," he said quietly.

He looked up hesitantly.

"Yes, you." Tobias pulled out a dollar and dropped it in his cup. "What would you say to a hundred more dollars? I need someone to take care of a little something for me and you look like the right man for the job."

He eyed him skeptically, smelling alcohol and stale smoke on his breath. "What do I have to do?"

"The town doctor, that woman."

"Dr. Mike?"

"That's her. The one who killed my son."

He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. He tried to hand the dollar back. "Look, mister, I need to be on my way."

"What for? We're just talking, friend. Just talking," he replied, looking around and making sure no one was watching. "Keep that dollar. Come around back where we can do some more business. Maybe I could even find a way to sweeten it to a hundred and ten you do a good job."

The veteran reluctantly tucked his hands and his pockets and followed him around to the back of the mercantile.

"Sure ya wanna do this?" Sully murmured as he and Michaela crossed the railroad tracks where the morning train had just gotten in.

Michaela patted the baby's back and glanced up at him bravely. "I have to."

They watched as several railroad workers carefully loaded a long casket into the luggage car. Tobias stood solemnly watching, the Reverend and Jake beside him with their hats off.

"Mr. Sawyer," Michaela called softly.

He regarded her impatiently.

Michaela cleared her throat. "I wanted to tell you again how deeply sorry I am. If there's anything I or my family can do for you, please don't hesitate."

He swallowed and looked away.

Michaela held out a small basket covered with a cloth. "It's a meal from our caf�. Train food isn't the best."

"I don't want your charity," he suddenly spat. "Your charity killed my boy."

She slowly lowered the basket. "And I wanted to let you know, I've wired several of my colleagues. I'm going to find out the latest research on anesthetics."

"That gonna bring him back?" he retorted.

"Well, no, I � I didn't mean it that way," she said helplessly. "I just wanted to-"

"You'll pay for this," he said seethingly. "I'll see to it you'll pay." He took a step closer to her and stared her down.

Sully gently touched his chest. "Why don't ya just, ya get on your train," he murmured.

Tobias glanced at him a moment and then turned away from them, gently grasping the Reverend's hand and shaking it. "Thank you for your help, Reverend Johnson."

"Of course. God be with you," the Reverend replied, squeezing his hand.

Michaela watched as he boarded the train. She turned to Sully.

"Do you suppose he means to file a lawsuit?"

"I don't know. Don�t think most folks around here could afford a lawyer. Sides, even if he could, he don't got a case, do he?"

She sighed. "No, I don't think so. I'm confident I did nothing wrong. There isn't a doctor in the state who would oppose using chloroform for removing wisdom teeth."

"Michaela, folks say things when they're grievin'. We been through it ourselves, we know how hard it is. It makes him feel better right now to get angry at ya. It'll pass."

She kissed the baby's head as the train pulled out of the station. "I suppose I should get to the clinic and start my day."

"That's right," he replied, giving her a reassuring kiss.

Michaela sat up in bed restlessly and lit the lamp. She looked at Sully, who was breathing deeply beside her. She touched his shoulder.

"Sully, are you asleep?"

"Hm," he replied.

"Sully," she said again.

"What's wrong?" he blurted, opening his eyes.

"I have to write a report about Jason Sawyer's death," she said resolutely.

"What?" he muttered groggily.

"A report about what happened. I should document the case and submit it to the American Medical Society."

He gazed up at her curiously. "Yeah, sure. If that's what ya think."

She got out of bed and crossed the room to the vanity, taking out undergarments and a skirt and blouse decisively.

"Where ya goin'?" he asked. "Michaela, it's late."

"Sully, I can't sleep a wink. I'm going to ride out to the clinic and start on it right now."

He sat up in bed. "At this hour? Don't be crazy."

"I won't feel better until I've written that report. It'll help me feel better, Sully. I need to do this. Try to understand."

"Why can't ya just work on it here?"

She shook her head. "No, I need his file, my medical books."

He glanced at the crib. "What about the baby? Your ma?"

"I'll be back by morning. I promise."

He watched her change and then she came back to bed and gave him a kiss.

"Be careful," he said firmly.

"Go back to sleep," she replied. "I'll be fine."

Michaela unlocked her clinic door and opened it. She was surprised to find the front room toasty warm and some hot coals burning in her stove. She reacted with a soft cry when she saw the war veteran who had been lingering outside Loren's store holding his hands in front of her stove. He looked equally as shocked to see her.

"What are you doing in here?" Michaela blurted.

"I was, I was cold, ma'am," he stammered. "I'll leave now."

"Don't you have anyplace to stay?" she asked curiously.

He shook his head. "Not anymore."

Michaela softened a bit and shut the door, stepping toward him. "You can warm up in here. It's all right. There's a wind coming down from the mountains."

He shyly stayed where he was and rubbed his hands together.

"What's your name?" Michaela said.

"Harrington," he said quietly.

"How did you get in?" she asked curiously.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Your back door. It was unlocked."

"It was? Oh, dear." She took off her jacket and hung it up. "Well, you can stay here and warm up as long as you need. I'm just going to be working on something."

He managed a nod and watched her head for her bookshelf. "Dr. Mike?"

She turned around. "Yes?"

"Thank you. You're very kind."

She smiled as she pulled out a few books. "You're welcome."

"Let me get this straight," Sully said impatiently as he leaned against the kitchen table. "You let some stranger sit by your stove all night while you wrote your essay?"

She poured herself a big cup of coffee off the stove. "It's a report. And no he didn't sit there all night. He fell asleep on one of the cots eventually."

The children ate their oatmeal at the breakfast table, watching their parents disagreement in fascination. It was rare they ever saw their father express any kind of anger over something their mother had done, let alone instigate a fight, and they were eager to see how this was all going to shake out.

"You let him sleep there, too?" Sully blurted. "He don't got any place to go?"

"Oh, Michaela, really," Elizabeth spoke up as she fed the baby some warm cereal.

"What?" Michaela replied, raising her eyebrows and taking a seat at the head of the table.

Sully thought at that moment she reminded him exactly of Byron with that same innocent look on her face that their son often gave them when trying to avoid getting in trouble for something or other, but he was too upset to be amused.

"You know how dangerous that is?" he murmured. "Woman like you takin' in a drifter like that?"

"I don't see anything particularly dangerous about someone as poor and lonely as he obviously is. All he wanted to do was warm his hands over the fire. And if he wants to do so in the future on cold nights, I'll let him in again."

"It's trouble, Michaela," he said.

"You're as bad as Loren, judging him the way you are."

"I ain't judgin' nobody. I'm just sayin' I don't like it."

"Fine, you don't have to like it. Pass the eggs please, Mother."

"I agree with Sully. I don't want you to have anything to do with that man again," Elizabeth said as she handed her the bowl of eggs.

"I agree with Papa, too," Byron spoke up.

"Me, too," Red Eagle said.

"Oh, do you now?" Michaela replied, dishing herself up a portion of eggs.

"Yeah," Byron said. He paused a moment. "Wait, what did Papa say again?"

Michaela chuckled and so did Elizabeth. Michaela glanced at Sully and even he couldn't help smiling.

"Eat your breakfast," Michaela said with a grin as she took another sip of coffee.

Michaela ran her hand skillfully down Faye's belly. The young woman was reclined on the new examination table, Kirk beside her holding Danielle. "There's its back." Michaela felt down low for a long moment. "And that's definitely the head. It's in an excellent position for a normal delivery."

"Oh, good," Faye said, smiling up at Kirk.

"See the baby, Danny?" Kirk said, pointing at Faye's belly. "He's in your ma's tummy."

"Baby," Danielle remarked pensively. "It gon come out."

Kirk chuckled and patted her back. "Yeah."

"How's your appetite?" Michaela asked as she took out her medical chart.

"Eating us out of house and home," Kirk said.

"Kirk, I am not," Faye scolded. "I'm just a little hungrier than usual."

Michaela smiled. "That's normal. Just try to get lots of extra fruits and vegetables and grains."

Kirk sat Danielle on the examination table. "Dr. Mike, you think it's all right I take this construction job out of town for a couple weeks? Think Faye'll be all right while I'm gone?"

"Oh. Well, I don't see why not. Everything looks fine and you're not due for more than a month."

"See, honey?" Faye said. "I told you there's nothin' to worry about."

"I just want to make sure Dr. Mike thinks it's all right, that's all, honey," he replied as he helped her sit up.

Sully knocked on the door and opened it, holding a small tin bucket. "Brought that caulk for the upstairs window. Faye, didn't know you were here."

"Just another checkup," Kirk said, shaking Sully's hand with a smile. "Say, we gotta be in Wetmore day after tomorrow. You're comin', ain't ya, Sully?"

"Wetmore?" Michaela said with surprise. "You never mentioned anything about Wetmore, Sully."

He put the bucket on her desk awkwardly. "That's cause I ain't goin'."

"Sixty dollars for less than two weeks of construction work and you ain't goin'?" Kirk replied, carefully helping Faye down from the table. "Well, if you change your mind, train leaves in the mornin'."

"Thank you, Dr. Mike," Faye said, gathering her purse. "See you later, Sully."

"Get lots of rest," Michaela said as she saw the couple out. "You need it right now."

"She will, I'll see to it," Kirk vowed.

Michaela shut the door after them.

"What's this about a construction job?" she asked.

"Kirk heard about it awhile back. Signed us up."

She walked over to the bassinette to check on the baby. "But now you're not going?"

"Just think now's not a good time, that's all."

"Why?" she replied, perplexed. "Sully, it might be awhile before something like this comes up again."

"You want me to leave?"

"No, of course not. But I don't want you turning down good opportunities either for no apparent reason." She reached into the bassinette and lifted out the drowsy baby, giving her a kiss.

"It ain't for no reason," he replied impatiently.

"Then why?" she replied.

He sighed. "Guess after your patient died � it didn't feel right takin' off on ya. I wanna be here for ya. I ain't goin'."

She walked over to him and drew him into a hug. "Oh, Sully. You have been here for me. You have. But I'm all right now. If you want to take this job it's all right with me. Everything's going to be fine here."

"You sure about this?" he replied, stroking the baby's hair.

"Sully, it's the nature of my work that sometimes I lose a patient. While I don't think it's going to get any easier to cope with that, we can't put our lives on hold every time it happens. Go to Wetmore. I think you should."

"Guess it's only two weeks," he replied, kissing her cheek.

"Yes. It'll fly by," she said. She glanced at the baby and smiled. "It'll fly by, Papa, won't it?"

Sully smiled and tickled Eliza's cheek. "Hey, sweet girl. Guess if you and your ma both think it's all right, I should go."

"How long ya gonna be gone?" Loren asked, gently clutching his side.

"Little more than a week."

"Anything else?"

"That's it."

"Eight dollars, fifty cents," Loren said.

Sully counted out the money and then picked up the crate. "Loren, you all right? Ya look kinda sick."

He put the money in his cashbox and slammed the lid. "Sick? I never get sick! See ya later, Sully. Send my best to the family."

"I will. See ya," he replied, walking outside where Harrington was sitting on the stoop shaking his cup. Sully put the crate in the back of the wagon and headed over to him. "You Harrington?"

He got to his feet. "Yes. How did you know?"

"I'm Dr. Mike's husband. Sully."

Harrington shook with him. "Dr. Mike's been very kind."

Sully nodded. "Ya don't got a place to stay? Family?"

He shook his head.

Sully thought a moment. "Listen, I'm gonna be outta town for awhile. But when I come back, maybe I could find some work for ya to do around my homestead. Fence out by the road could use some repairs."

"I'm willing to work. I'll take whatever job I can get."

Sully nodded and shook with him again. "We'll talk when I get back."

"Send us a telegram when you get there," Michaela said as she packed an apple into Sully's lunch satchel.

Sully sorted through his tools at the kitchen table. "Don't think Wetmore's got a telegraph office."

"Oh. Well, write to us then. Let us know you're all right. Surely they at least have a place to post a letter." She packed some slaps of beef jerky and then closed up the satchel.

He walked to her side and drew her into his arms, holding her close. "I'll miss ya."

"I'll miss you," she murmured.

"I'm sorry about this, Michaela. I know ya need me here what with Claudette about to come out and the weddin' to plan. And what happened to Jason Sawyer."

"No. I mean, of course I want you here. But construction work makes you happy. And if you can't find that sort of work here then you might need to go away to work from time to time. I feel better anyway that Kirk's going, too. You can look out for each other."

"And Kirk feels better with you here for Faye."

"Oh, she'll be fine. She's not due for another month."

"Tell that to Kirk," he said wryly. "Never seen a new father so nervous."

She smiled. "You were quite nervous yourself when I was pregnant as I recall."

"No I wasn't," he replied. He smiled softly. "Well, maybe a little at the end there."

She smiled wider and placed his lunch satchel beside his tools.

"Michaela, do me a favor," he spoke up. "Don't spend too much time around Harrington while I'm gone."

"I don't," she said defensively.

"I know, just, ya keep your distance. We don't know him, where he comes from, who he is."

"He's a homeless veteran."

"Look, I told him I'm gonna see if I can scrounge up some work for him when I get back. Maybe repairing the fence."

"The fence? What's wrong with the fence?"

He smiled softly. "Nothin'. But he wants work. Maybe I could help."

"Oh, Sully. That would be wonderful. I think he'd appreciate that."

"Meantime though, just keep your distance. I don't want him stayin' at the clinic, ya givin' him handouts, all right? Not unless I'm home."

She averted her eyes. "All right," she said quietly.

Suddenly a thunderous crash from upstairs broke the peaceful afternoon.

"What on earth was that?" Michaela cried as they looked at the ceiling.

They hurried upstairs where the boys' door was mysteriously shut.

"Byron! Red Eagle!" Michaela called. She thrust open their door.

The boys were standing in the center of the room, staring in surprise at their prostrate bookcase. Novels and storybooks were scattered in a huge pile beside it. Michaela never realized how many books the children had collected over the years until they were strewn all over the floor.

"Oh, my God. What happened!?" Michaela exclaimed.

Byron bit his lip. "Um, the bookshelf fell over, Ma."

"I can see that. You're not hurt are you? Are you all right?"

"We're all right," Red Eagle said.

"How'd this happen?" Sully asked, folding his arms.

"Well, we were trying to move it and it just tipped over all of a sudden," Byron said innocently.

"Move it? What for? Were you redecorating?" Michaela demanded impatiently.

"No," Red Eagle said. "We were trying to make a fort."

"We were going to make a tent with it. See, we thought we could lean it against the bed," Byron explained. "But then � it fell."

Michaela stared at them in shock.

Byron gave her an innocent, slightly crooked smile. "Whoops. Sorry, Ma."

Sully nodded at the pile of books. "Clean all this up. Then when you're done with that I think your ma's kitchen floor could use a good scrubbin'. You fetch some water and do that for her."

"Aww, Papa," Byron moaned.

Sully looked at him sternly.

"Yes, sir," Byron muttered.

"Yes, sir," Red Eagle echoed.

"Get started. It's gonna take ya awhile," Sully instructed.

"Yes, sir," they said simultaneously as they crouched down and began picking up the books.

Michaela and Sully left the room and Michaela leaned against the hallway wall with a big sigh.

"I can't believe that. Thank goodness they weren't hurt."

He chuckled softly. "Have to admit their faces were pretty funny when we walked in."

She emitted a soft laugh and stepped toward him, putting her arm around him. "Never a dull moment in the Sully house."

"Sure you can handle 'em while I'm gone?" he asked wryly.

"Not sure, no," she said with a raise of her eyebrows.

"They act up again, you just tell 'em their pa will take care of 'em when he gets home."

She chuckled. "I'll do that."

"Bye-bye, sweet girl," Sully said as he rocked her. "Pa'll be home soon, all right?"

The baby grabbed Sully's beads and brought them straight into her mouth. They were perfect to teeth on and she could gnaw away at them for hours.

Sully found Red Eagle and Byron jumping up and down the train station steps mischievously and nearly falling more than once.

"Boys," Sully said. They trooped over to him and Sully put his hand on Red Eagle's shoulder. "I want ya to behave for your ma while I'm gone. Don't give her a hard time. Ya understand?"

"Yes, sir," they said.

Sully smiled and ruffled Byron's hair. "Come 'ere."

The boys enveloped him in a tight hug.

"I love ya," Sully murmured. "I'll miss ya."

"Wish you didn't have to go, Papa," Byron said.

"I'll be home soon, all right?" He gave them each a kiss and then picked up Katie and hugged and kissed her.

"Love you, Papa," she said sweetly.

"Love you," he whispered, tapping her nose. "I don't have to worry about you. I know you'll mind your ma just like ya always do."

She giggled. "Yeah."

"That's my sweet girl." Finally Sully turned to Michaela. They had already said their more intimate goodbyes in private. But he caressed her cheek and gave her a soft kiss.

"Be careful. I love you," she said.

"I love you, too," he replied tenderly.

The train whistle blew. "Hurry," Michaela said, taking the baby from him. "Don't miss your train."

Sully grabbed his luggage and stepped on board. He searched the depot and spotted Kirk and Faye off to the side immersed in a lengthy goodbye. Kirk was holding and rocking and kissing Faye as if he expected never to see her again. Danielle was toddling nearby on the steps and among her parents legs.

"Kirk," Sully called. "We better get on board."

"Yeah, I'm comin'," he called.

"Darlin', don't fret," Faye said. "I'm fine. I'll be fine."

"Don't work too hard. Put your feet up. And listen to Dr. Mike. Ya got it?"

"Yes, sir," she said, giving him a little salute.

"Faye, it's not funny," he scolded.

"Well, it is gonna be funny if ya miss your train. Hurry up."

"Oh, right." He rubbed her swollen belly and crouched down to give it a big kiss. "Hey, baby. Bye-bye. You stay put, ya hear?" He gathered his bed roll and pack and followed Sully up the train steps.

"Goodbye. Good luck!" Michaela called as Faye came over leading Danielle by the hand.

"Goodbye!" Faye said. "Danielle, wave to Daddy. Say, bye-bye, Daddy."

Danielle raised one hand and opened and closed her fist at Kirk.

The men waved at them as the train slowly pulled out of the station and out of sight.

Brian haphazardly folded up a large bed sheet. "I didn't."

"Yes you did. I saw you," she scolded, folding her apron and placing it in the laundry basket.

"Maybe I'm just anxious to have it back on our bed," he said teasingly, grabbing a towel and playfully hitting her with it.

She eyed him wryly. "Mr. Cooper, mind your manners."

"What manners, Mrs. Cooper? Come 'ere," he said, grabbing her around the waist and wrestling her toward him.

She screeched. "Brian!"

They stopped their banter as soon as they saw a buggy pulling up to their homestead. Mrs. Sheehan waved at them.

"Oh, it's Mama." Sarah quickly smoothed her hair and walking toward the buggy. "Mama, I didn't know you were gonna stop by today," she called.

Brian helped her down. "Afternoon, Mrs. Sheehan."

"How many times do I have to tell you?" she replied. "It's Anna Marie now."

He smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

Sarah put her arm around her affectionately. "What brings you out here? Everything all right?"

She reached into her buggy for her basket. "Oh, just fine. Just wanted to drop off some extra bunt cake I made. Thought you might like it."

Brian pulled back the cloth. "I know I would. Looks great." He reached inside.

"Brian, don't touch until after supper," Sarah said.

Anna Marie grimaced softly and clutched one of her wrists.

"Mama?" Sarah asked. "Your arthritis actin' up again?"

"Oh, you know how it is when the weather turns cooler around here," she said dismissively. "It always acts up."

Sarah gently grasped her hand and studied it. "Your fingers look swollen. Have you been to see Dr. Mike lately?"

"Not much she can do more than any other doctor, Sarah," Anna Marie replied. "I keep doin' the warm soaks every night like she tells me, and that mustard seed plaster. I always do everything she says."

"It helpin' any?" Brian asked.

"Some."

"You oughta see her again. Promise me you'll go," Sarah instructed.

"I will, I promise." She eyed the two of them impatiently. "Well, are we gonna stand outside in this cold talking all day or are you gonna invite me in for some coffee?"

Brian smiled. "Sure. Come on inside."

Horace was sorting through some packages. "No, Dr. Mike. Sorry. But there is something for you, Mrs. Quinn." He walked to the mail slots and pulled out a small letter.

"Thank you, Horace," Elizabeth said. She looked at the return address. "Oh, it's from Edward. Probably going to bore me again with more stock figures and the like. Oh, I never could stand that sort of thing."

Michaela chuckled softly as they headed back to the clinic. "Careful on the steps, Mother," she said as she helped Elizabeth down the train station platform.

Elizabeth opened up the letter. Her content expression rapidly faded as she quickly read it. "Oh, no. Oh, good heavens!"

"What is it?" Michaela asked.

Elizabeth pressed one hand to her mouth. "He can't be serious. All your father's hard-earned money!"

"Mother, what?" Michaela demanded.

"See for yourself," she said, passing her the paper.

"'Dearest Mother, Now don't panic,' Michaela read aloud. She looked up. "Don't panic? That's not a very good way to start."

"Just read it," Elizabeth ordered.

"'Unfortunately there's been a slight complication with your investments. You see my colleagues and I have been investing in the Central Pacific Railroad for some time and in three years we've nearly tripled your money. However certain unfortunate circumstances beyond our control have caused shares to plummet, and I regret to inform you that at present your stock is virtually worthless. At the moment I must advise that you be very discretionary with your money as the sum of six-hundred and two dollars and twelve cents is all that remains in your account at First National Bank of Boston. Never fear, there is still some other capital tied up in stocks and bonds and other investments that I'm going to work on freeing up for you. We will recover from this loss, I promise you. Sit tight for the moment and I'll be in touch as soon as possible. Your son-in-law and ever faithful trustee, Edward.'" Michaela looked up. "I'm so sorry, Mother. This is terrible."

"Terrible? Michaela, terrible doesn't begin to describe it."

"Well, I hate to say it but Sully told you not to invest in the railroad."

"Sully never told me anything," she retorted. "Sully just said he doesn't want to invest in the railroad himself. He never said I shouldn't."

"At least it sounds like he's doing everything he can to recoup your losses," Michaela replied.

"Edward, that foolish man," she said. "What was he thinking? Why was he taking such risks with my money like that?"

"Probably because you have a lot of it. Or had," Michaela said quietly.

Elizabeth spun around. "I'm going to send him a telegram right now." She marched back to the telegraph office. "Horace, a telegram, please," she said. "To Mr. Edward McCain. Back Bay, Boston, Massachusetts." She look a deep breath. "Edward, you fool! You stupid, brainless fool! How could you!? All your father-in-law's hard-earned money gone. And all because of you!"

Horace looked up with a raised eyebrow as he took down the telegram with a pencil.

"Mother, perhaps you should send him a telegram when you've had a chance to calm down a little," Michaela spoke up, clearing her throat.

"This is none of your concern, Michaela," Elizabeth spat. She tapped the telegram paper, indicating Horace should keep writing. "''You'd better fix this, young man, and fix it soon. If I die with only six-hundred dollars to my name you'll have to answer to a ghost because I'll be coming back from the grave to haunt you the rest of your life unless you make this right immediately. Don't dare contact me until this problem is rectified in some form. Love, Mother."

"Love?" Michaela echoed in disbelief. The baby looked at her grandmother with an equally incredulous expression, as if she had understood every word.

"What? I still love him. I just hate that he lost all my money."

"Come on, Mother. Let's go to Grace's and get some coffee. It'll help you feel better."

"For the first time in my life I think I'd rather pay a visit to that saloon."

"Mother, it'll be all right," Michaela said, reaching across the table and gently patting her hand.

"Explain to me how this will be all right!" Elizabeth retorted.

"Well, you still have six-hundred dollars. That's not exactly pennies. Any family out here could live on that for decades." She grasped the side of the pram and gently rocked it to help settle the baby.

"Michaela, do you have any idea what I used to be worth?"

"Well, truthfully, no. I know it was a lot."

"Thirty-thousand dollars to be exact," Elizabeth said.

"Thirty-thousand dollars?" Michaela echoed hoarsely. "I didn�t know it was that much."

"Well, it was. We never talked about it with you girls. Not that you didn't realize we were quite well off. But we didn't want you to know how wealthy we really were. Your father had very shrewd investors working for him. They invested in steamboats and locomotives and steel and the money just piled up right before our eyes. When your father died Edward promised me he would take care of everything. He promised me he could do even better. And so I appointed him trustee. And now it's gone. Gone!"

Preston walked into the caf� and spotted the ladies drinking their coffee. He waved at them and headed over.

"Good afternoon, Michaela. Mrs. Quinn," Preston said.

"For you, perhaps," Elizabeth muttered.

"Well, I thought you'd want to know. I received word from Claudette yesterday. Mollie and William will be joining us for the wedding."

"Oh, how wonderful," Michaela said with a smile. "We haven't seen Mollie in ages. Isn't that wonderful, Mother? Your grandchildren are coming."

Preston removed his hat and patted at his damp brow with a handkerchief.

"Preston? Is something wrong?" Michaela asked.

"I suppose I'm just a little nervous. They've never even met me and I'm about to become their step-father. I don't know how they're going to feel about me."

"You should be nervous. Claudette's daughter Mollie is just like Michaela," Elizabeth said sourly.

"Mother," Michaela scolded.

"What do you mean just like Michaela?" Preston blurted.

"They'll like you, Preston. Don't worry," Michaela said uncertainly.

Elizabeth buried her eyes behind one hand and sighed deeply.

"Mrs. Quinn?" Preston said. "Are you all right?"

"She's all right. She received some bad news just now," Michaela explained.

"Oh? Nothing too bad I hope."

"Oh, no, not at all. I just lost everything, that's all," Elizabeth said.

"My brother-in-law invested in the railroad and apparently things took a turn for the worse," Michaela explained.

"Oh, I see. Well, it's always risky investing in the railroad," Preston said. "Usually a bad idea."

"You might have mentioned this before now!" Elizabeth cried.

Preston took a seat. "Mrs. Quinn, I wonder if you might consider letting me manage your portfolio."

"Or what's left of it," she muttered.

"My strategy would be to diversify your investments. Invest most of your capital conservatively, while setting aside just a small portion for more risky ventures."

"What's the catch, young man?"

"Catch?"

"Yes, what's in it for you?" she demanded.

"Oh, nothing, Mrs. Quinn, I assure you. Just a small percentage of the profits and any applicable fees." He pulled out a small stiff piece of paper. "Here's my card. Why don't you come by at seven o'clock tomorrow night? I think I can fit you in my busy schedule. Bring your financial records."

Elizabeth studied his card with a glimmer of hope.

"Good day, ladies," Preston said.

"Spare a penny, miss?" Harrington said, holding out his cup of change.

Faye eyed him a moment and slowly read his sign about being a veteran, sounding out the words in a whisper. "Oh, well, let me see." She opened her drawstring purse and pulled out a coin. "All I have is two bits. Hope that'll do." She dropped it in his cup.

He smiled gratefully. "Thank you, miss."

She smiled back and drew Danielle inside. "Afternoon, Mr. Bray. A pound of coffee please," Faye said.

"Twenty cents," he replied as he walked off to his shelves to grab a sack.

She bent down and lifted Danielle up to sit on the counter. "Oh, could you put it on our account?"

"You have to put twenty cents on your account?" he retorted.

"I gave the last of my change to that poor man outside without a home. Kirk always pays off our account on time. Don't worry."

"He's still here?" Loren demanded, spinning around. "I told him to leave three times!" He put the sack of coffee on the counter and rushed outside. "You! Get out of here. Go. Get out," he ordered. "You're takin' money from my customers that belongs to me!"

"Mr. Bray-" Harrington said.

"You get out right now or I'll get the sheriff!" he replied.

Danielle pointed at the men and screeched dramatically.

Harrington gathered the bundle at his feet and quietly stepped off the porch.

"And I'm gonna see to it you never come back!" Loren shouted after him. "Legal-like. You mark my words!"

"What's the matter, Mr. Bray? Why you so angry at that man?" Faye asked as he came back inside. Danielle was fingering the brown wrapping paper attached to the roll.

"Don't touch that," Loren muttered, glancing at the baby. "Harrington's the matter, that's what."

Faye pulled away the baby's hand from the paper. The baby waited a moment, then reached for it again. "Who's Harrington?"

"That hobo outside, who do you think? The one disturbin' all my customers."

"Oh. But he ain't disturbin' me," she replied, pulling Danielle's hand away again.

"Well, almost all of 'em. I'm gonna see to it we pass an ordinance that keeps him off my property and everybody else's for good. I'm gonna call a council meetin'. About time!"

"'Ba time!" the baby echoed. Loren scowled at her.

Faye smoothed the baby's hair. "Council meetin'?"

"That's right. Tonight!" he replied gruffly.

"How are the newlyweds?" Michaela asked as she tenderly flexed Anna Marie's wrist.

"Oh, very much in love," Anna Marie said with a chuckle.

"They certainly seem happy," she replied.

"Yes, no doubt about it. My only complaint is I don't see the two of them as much as I'd like. But I s'pose that'll improve in time."

"Don't worry, we don't see them either," Michaela said wryly.

"Well, they're comin' over tonight for my birthday in any case. Sarah said she'll make supper. And a good thing too because I don't think I could lift a thing right now."

"Oh, isn't that nice. Happy birthday."

She smiled and glanced at her wrists. "What do you think?"

"Well, your wrists are very inflamed. You should give them a rest if you can."

"I shouldn't have made that bunt cake the other day. All that stirrin'."

"Let me wrap them up for you," Michaela said, walking to her cabinet and pulling out some bandages. "It's too bad Colorado doesn't have a milder climate."

"Hm?" Anna Marie asked.

"Colorado. We have such cold weather. You said your arthritis acts up the most when it turns cold."

She paused a long moment. "Oh. Yes. You know, I had this since I was a young woman. But it never felt like this until we moved here. I was fine in Georgia."

"I suppose all we can do is hope for spring," Michaela said as she unraveled a bandage.

Loren suddenly thrust open the door. "Dr. Mike," he called.

"Loren, I'm with a patient," she scolded.

"Emergency council meeting tonight. Seven o'clock. Be there," he ordered

"Council meeting? Why? What for?"

"To pass my ordinance against begging and get men like Harrington off our streets," Loren said, waving a piece of paper.

"You call that an emergency?"

"Yes, I do. See you tonight." He slammed the door.

Michaela raised her eyebrows. "I'm sorry about that, Mrs. Sheehan."

She chuckled. "No harm done. Mr. Bray sure is up in arms."

"Yes, he is," she replied pensively.

Michaela opened the door carrying the baby, her medical bag and her basket. Elizabeth was sitting at the table with the children helping them do their homework. Several folders and papers and Edward's letter were stacked beside her, ready to show to Preston that evening.

"Hey, Mama," Katie called.

"How was your day? How was school?" she asked as she handed the baby to Elizabeth and put her medical bag and basket on the table.

"Good. We're almost done with homework," Byron said. "Can we do a chess lesson after supper?"

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, not tonight. Mr. Bray called a town council meeting that Mama has to go to."

"But, Mama," Byron protested.

"Council meeting? What for?" Elizabeth asked.

"Oh, he's all upset about that drifter who's been begging outside his store. He wants us to require him to leave."

"Oh, well, I'm going to have to cancel my meeting with Preston then," Elizabeth said. "Unless you've found someone else to watch the children."

"No, I don't want you to cancel, Mother," Michaela said. "I think it'll help if you talk about it with Preston, and it's not fair you have to cancel just because Loren sprung this meeting on everyone at the last minute."

"Oh, fiddlesticks, I don't mind," Elizabeth said.

"No, I insist," Michaela said.

"What about Brian and Sarah?" Red Eagle spoke up. "We could go to their house."

"Yea!" Katie cried. "Brian and Sarah! We could even sleep over!"

"I'm afraid they're not even going to be home," Michaela said. "It's Sarah's mother's birthday tonight and they'll be at her house."

"Can't somebody else do it?" Byron asked. "Miss Grace? Miss Dorothy?"

"Dorothy and Grace are going to the meeting, sweetheart. I'm afraid I have no choice but to bring you with me."

"No!" he cried. "I'm not going to the town council. It's so boring, Mama!"

"Aw, Mama," Red Eagle griped.

She took off her jacket. "I'm sorry but you're going to have to. I can't find anyone to watch you."

"We could stay by ourselves!" Byron said. "We can do it, Ma."

"Yeah!" Katie said.

"Absolutely not. If you recall the last time I left you by yourselves you went missing for three hours. And besides, someone needs to take care of the baby. Preferably someone who's not eight years old."

"I hate being a little kid," Byron griped.

"Me, too," Red Eagle said. "Come on, Ma, we'll be all right. Please let us."

"Pretty please?" Byron echoed.

"Come on, Ma," Red Eagle said petulantly.

"It's gonna be so boring," Byron griped. "Boring. Boring. Mommy. Mommy."

"Boys, you're giving Mommy a headache. You're coming with me and that's the end of it. Now finish your schoolwork and then clear the table so we can eat supper right away."

Mrs. Sheehan rushed toward the post office, carrying her purse.

"Mr. Bing!" she called.

"I'm about to close up," he replied, putting on his jacket. "Loren called a council meeting tonight."

"Oh, I didn't hear about that. I was wondering if I could send a telegram before you leave. It's just a short one."

"Oh. No trouble." He reached behind his counter and pulled out a pad of telegram paper. "Who's it to?"

She opened her purse. "Thank you, Mr. Bing. I appreciate it. It's to Mrs. Belinda Sheehan. Buckhead Village. Atlanta, Georgia."

"Uh-huh�.uh-huh," Preston said as he slowly flipped through Elizabeth's financial paperwork at his desk. "Hmm. Uh-huh."

Elizabeth eyed him impatiently, clutching her cane. "Uh-huh, is that all you're going to say?" she demanded.

He looked up. "Well, the railroad ruined you," he remarked.

She narrowed her eyes. "If you can do nothing more than state the obvious, Mr. Lodge, I'll take my business elsewhere. I hear Denver has some lovely financial institutions."

He stacked together her paperwork and put it in a folder. "Just a minute. I have a proposition for you," he said.

"What's that?"

"Give me six weeks to turn this around for you. Let me do some investigations, talk to some of my investors, send some telegrams. Really try to diversify your investments. If I haven't tripled your wealth in that time, I'll return everything to you and won't charge you a thing."

"And if you do triple it?"

He cleared his throat. "Twenty percent."

"Who do you think you are, young man? Five percent," she retorted.

"Ten percent," he countered.

She studied him skeptically for a long moment. "Fine. Ten percent."

He extended his hand amicably. "Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Quinn."

She ignored his hand. "I'll see how I feel when you've tripled my money."

"Wait right here," Michaela instructed, the baby on her hip as she stood in the church alcove. "Don't touch anything and play quietly."

Katie opened up a book to read but Red Eagle and Byron just sat on the floor petulantly.

"I won't be long," she said, opening up the satchel she had brought brimming with toys as well as their checkerboard. "Here, play your checker game. By the time you're finished the meeting's going to be over."

"Dr. Mike, hurry up!" Jake called.

"Behave," she said one last time before entering the crowded church and making her way to her seat up front.

Loren eyed the baby impatiently.

"I'm sorry," Michaela said helplessly, patting Eliza's back. "I couldn't find anyone to watch the children."

"The meeting's called to order," Jake said, tapping his gavel.

"Good," Loren said, tapping some papers together. "I have here a proposal preventing begging in front of my store or any other business in this town."

"That proposal is specifically aimed at Harrington and you know it, Loren," Michaela said.

"So?" Jake spoke up.

"So, it's not right," she replied.

"He's a beggar, Dr. Mike. A beggar and a drifter," Loren said, arms crossed. "It don't look good for the town, or my store."

"I just don't see what harm he's really doing," she replied. "Why can't he just ask people if they could spare a little change?"

"Because it looks bad, that's why," he replied.

"You don't understand these kinds of things, Dr. Mike. You don't have a business," Jake said.

"Yes I do. I have my medical practice. That's a business," she protested. Eliza whimpered a little and tossed her arms. Michaela gave her a pen to hold.

"That's different. Folks don�t care who stands outside the clinic. But they care who's outside my barber shop when they just want to get a nice haircut."

"Or do their shopping," Loren added.

"Well, I disagree, don't you, Horace?" Michaela said as she rocked the baby and patted her back to try to settle her. The baby threw the pen on the table impatiently.

"It doesn't matter to me where he stands. As long as he's not blocking any doors," Horace said.

"How do you feel about this, Reverend?" Michaela asked.

"Well, as a Reverend I don't think I should tell somebody who doesn't even have a home to go to they can't stand there anymore. It doesn't seem like the Christian thing to do."

"Precisely," Michaela said.

"Oh, why do you have to go and bring God into this?" Loren griped. "That man probably doesn't even have religion."

"We don't know that," Michaela said as Eliza began crying. "And even if he didn't, that doesn't mean we have a right to tell him he can't beg for money anymore. And besides, he's a war veteran. If anything we should be giving him food and shelter and thanking him for his service to our country." She smoothed the baby's hair. "Shh. Shh. Hush."

"Oh, all these folks are all alike," Loren replied. "Just want a handout."

Jake glanced at the crying baby. "I s'pose we should vote."

Loren scowled. "Just remember, Horace. We let enough men like that into town and maybe you won't have any more trains to keep track of. Nobody'll want to come here anymore."

"Oh, Loren," Michaela scolded.

"All in favor of Loren's proposal to prohibit begging in Colorado Springs raise your hands," Jake said.

Jake and Loren raised their hands. Loren looked at Horace expectantly, waiting for him to raise his hand, too. Eliza cried all the harder in Michaela's arms and tossed her head.

"Horace, come on," Loren said through his teeth.

"I'm sorry, Loren. I just can't vote for something like this," Horace replied.

"What?!" Loren replied over Eliza's cries.

"Opposed?" Jake finally muttered.

"Nay," Michaela, the Reverend and Horace said.

"I don't believe it!" Loren exclaimed, staring at Horace in shock.

Jake tapped his gavel. "That's it. The ordinance fails."

The baby screamed in Michaela's arms, clutching her blouse.

"Shh, shh," Michaela said. "All right. We're going home now, sweetheart. We're going home."

"You want to drive my business into the ground go ahead. Hope you're happy," Loren grumbled to no one in particular as he stood up impatiently and stormed down the aisle, one hand clutching his side.

"Meeting's adjourned," Jake said, tapping his gavel again.

Michaela saw Dorothy, Grace and Faye visiting with each other, and she would have liked to join them, but the baby was beyond unhappy at the moment, and she needed to bring her and the children home. She hurried down the aisle to the alcove, stopping short as the boys placed a book on top of a tower of books taller than them. Katie was still reading her school primer, ignoring her younger brothers' antics.

"Boys! What on earth are you doing now?" Michaela exclaimed. The baby stopped crying a moment and stared at their structure.

"Stacking Bibles. How was the meetin'?" Red Eagle said.

"Shh, don't knock the tower over," Byron instructed.

She shook her head. "Stacking Bibles� children, Bibles are not toys. They belong to the church."

"Hey, thought they belonged to God," Red Eagle said, grabbing another Bible.

"Oh, for heaven's sake. Take your tower down and let's go."

"Oh, you wouldn't be able to find enough candles for how old I am now," Anna Marie said.

"Oh, Mama. You're not old," Sarah admonished.

"Yeah, you're not old," Brian added.

"Come on and blow 'em out," Sarah urged.

Anna Marie took a deep breath and blew out all the little white candles on the cake. Brian and Sarah clapped and then Sarah took out a knife and began cutting the cake.

"Well, maybe I'm not old," Anna Marie said. "But I'm not as young as I used to be either. This arthritis I have seems to be gettin' worse and worse every winter." She glanced at her bandaged hands.

"Thought Ma wrapped 'em up for ya good today," Brian said. "They don't feel better?"

"Well, some. Your ma does all she can for me. She truly does. But she even said herself a warmer climate would be better on me."

Sarah dished her up a slice of cake. "'Fraid it's gonna be awhile before things warm up around these parts. I'm sorry they're hurtin' you, Mama."

"Winters can be pretty tough out here," Brian said, taking his slice of cake from Sarah and eating a bite.

"I know. And I've been thinking about that. Your father's sister-in-law, your aunt, she always said if I was to ever come back to Georgia I could live with her and Uncle Harve."

"Aunt Belinda? I thought you two never got along," Sarah said, taking a seat.

"Oh, we've long patched up any differences we've had," Anna Marie said. "Sarah, I haven't really let on to you about my hands, because, well, that's not in my nature to complain about silly things like that."

"It's not silly, Mama," Sarah said. "You shoulda said something."

"Fact is they have been hurting me terrible bad lately. Like they never ever did in Georgia. What with me getting older I just think, well, it's time I think about the future. I've decided it's time I move back to Georgia."

"Move back!" Sarah cried. "Oh, but Mama. No, you can't."

"We'd miss you so much, Mrs. Sheehan," Brian said, shaking his head. "I mean, Anna Marie."

"Mama, no," Sarah bemoaned.

"I need to go back, darling. Not just for my health, but � your pa's there, my roots are there. And I was hoping you two would consider coming with me."

"Red Eagle, put your mittens back on," Michaela scolded as she slapped the reins. "It's bitter cold out."

"But my hands aren't cold," he replied from the back of the wagon.

"Just put them on, please?" she replied, shaking her head.

"Fine," he grumbled, pulling the red crocheted mittens out of his pocket "I look like a little kid in these."

"You are a little kid," Katie teased from her seat beside Michaela up front.

"Am not," he protested.

"Papa wouldn't make us wear our mittens," Byron spoke up.

"Good thing for me your papa's not here," Michaela replied. She spotted Harrington sitting on the bench outside her clinic slowly eating a bruised up apple. "Oh, there's Harrington right now."

"Hey, Harrington!" Byron called, waving at him.

"I have good news, Harrington," Michaela said. "Loren's ordinance was struck down. You don't have to leave."

He smiled softly and nodded.

Michaela cleared her throat. "It's going to be cold tonight. You should take shelter."

"Well, no, ma'am, I couldn't put you out again."

"Please, I said you could use the clinic whenever you need and I meant that. The spare key's above the doorsill."

He slowly got to his feet. "You're most kind, doctor. Thank you."

"But Mama, Papa said he couldn't stay at the clinic anymore," Red Eagle spoke up.

"Yeah, I'm telling," Byron spoke up.

"He didn't say that. Not exactly. Papa just said he doesn't prefer it," Michaela said. "Don't worry, I can handle Papa."

Harrington reached for the key and unlocked the door just as Jake walked down the street with Teresa on his arm.

"What's that begger doing in your clinic, Dr. Mike?" he demanded.

"Nothing," she replied, glancing down at him.

"He's got your key!" he replied.

"If you must know he sleeps there. Only when it's cold. Is that a problem?"

"You let him sleep there?!" Jake exclaimed.

"Am I breaking some sort of town ordinance I don't know about, Mayor Slicker?" Michaela replied. "Aren't I free to invite into my clinic whomever I like?"

He stared up at her dumbfounded. Teresa looked equally shocked and disapproving.

"I, well, I guess, but-" he stammered.

"Good," she replied with a smug smile. She gathered the reins. "Good evening." She slapped the reins and drove the wagon around the corner.

The children started giggling and soon Michaela was chuckling with them. She put her arm around Katie. "You're lucky you have mittens. And a warm place to sleep. Harrington doesn't have any of that."

"How does somebody get like Harrington, Mama?" Byron asked curiously. "I mean, no house and no food?"

"And no mittens," Red Eagle added.

"Well, because of the rest of us I suppose," Michaela replied. "We don't take care of our veterans as well as we should." She kissed Katie's head. "Let's go home."

"Didn't know your ma's rheumatism was givin' her that much trouble," Brian remarked quietly as he warmed his hands around a cup of coffee in front of their hearth.

"Me neither," Sarah murmured, taking a sip of coffee and sitting back in her chair reflectively.

"Sounds like she really wants to move back."

"We came to Colorado to get away. Get away from all the memories of pa, the life we used to have. Mama swore at the time she'd never go back." She took a deep breath. "Brian, I never really talked about how my pa died."

He eyed her curiously. "Thought he got lost on a huntin' trip, died of exposure."

"That's just what we told people. Guess we thought it'd be easier that way."

"Easier?"

"Pa was in the cotton business. But he and his family never had slaves. He always spoke out against it. He said there were other ways to have a strong economy without slave labor, sharecropping, too. After the war, Georgia started makin' all these laws saying Negroes couldn't do this or that. Made my pa so angry. I can remember him carrying on long into the night around the supper table with all his friends."

"The Jim Crow laws. I've read about those," Brian said.

"He even went up north to Washington, he and a few other menfolk from the Baptist Church. Were lobbying to get the Civil Rights Act passed."

"I didn't know that," Brian said. "That's somethin' to be admired."

"Brian, two weeks later he was murdered," she whispered. "He and two of his friends were beaten to death. Drivin' home from a political meetin' in Atlanta."

"Murdered?" Brian breathed in disbelief. "Sarah, why didn't ya ever tell me?"

Her voice was heavy with emotion. "We just don't talk about it. I learned not to. It's too hard on Mama. After the trial, Mama just wanted to take us away from everything. Get as far away as we could. That's when her sister, my Aunt Janice, said we could come out to Colorado Territory, stay with her. Now that Auntie's passed on, I think Mama's really been missin' what's left of her kin back East."

"Trial? So they caught who did it?"

She nodded. "It was two men. Jury came back with a guilty verdict in twenty minutes. Judge gave them the death penalty." She took a deep breath. "They were finally executed last month. My Aunt Belinda sent Mama the newspaper clipping."

He took a sip of coffee and stared into the flames.

Sarah glanced at him. "I think knowin' those murderers are dead now, well, it makes it easier on Mama to go back. It's as if we can finally have peace now about all this. We can face it all now."

He met her eyes. "We? Sarah, you ain't thinkin' of � "

She swallowed hard and slowly got up. "It's gettin' late. I'm gonna turn in. Are you comin'?"

He eyed her a long moment. "Yeah. I'll �. I'll be along in a minute."

She bent and gave his forehead a soft kiss, then put her coffee cup in the sink and headed off to their bedroom at the far end of their little house.

Brian returned his gaze to the fire and leaned back on the settee, lost in his thoughts. Finally his eyes closed and he fell asleep.

Preston waited eagerly on the platform holding a bundle of roses as the train chugged into the station. Michaela was nearby with the children, the baby over her shoulder. Preston quickly approached the passenger car as the porter opened the door. A few people stepped down until Claudette appeared carrying her purse.

"Claudette!" Preston shouted, rushing up to her and helping her to the platform.

She burst into a smile as he gathered her into a discreet hug.

"Oh, I missed you. How was your trip?" he asked.

"Horrible," she replied matter of factly.

"Why?"

"Bad weather, delays, terrible food and a mattress as stiff as a board. But it's all forgotten. Now that I'm with you again."

He smiled and caressed her cheek, giving her a soft kiss.

"Aunt Claudie!" Byron cried.

"Byron, shh," Michaela said, holding him back. "Give them a minute."

Byron was too excited to wait any longer. He ran up to them and hugged Claudette's waist. "I missed you, Auntie. I kept counting the days until you visited."

Claudette couldn't help chuckling. "I missed you, too, dear. And I'm not just visiting this time, remember? I'm getting married and I'm going to live here. At least some of the time."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot," he said, beaming up at her.

Michaela walked toward her and hugged her and Katie and Red Eagle followed suit.

"Welcome back!" Michaela said cheerfully.

"What are you feeding her? My goodness, Michaela," Claudette remarked critically, eyeing the baby. "She's downright fat."

Michaela glanced at Eliza with raised eyebrows. "She is? But she's just a baby. It's baby fat."

"Baby fat! I've never seen baby fat like that!" Claudette remarked. "Martha?" she called, spinning around. "Martha, where are you with my parasol?! It's a hundred degrees out here!"

"Martha? Martha's here?" Michaela exclaimed.

"Yes of course. You can't expect me to live out here six whole months out of the year without a good chambermaid, can you? And Martha is the best there is. Besides, she's been with the family for years and it's only right I offered the position to her first."

"And she said yes?" Michaela asked, bursting into a smile.

"Obviously," Claudette replied. "Martha!"

"So sorry, mum," Martha said as she suddenly appeared in the doorway carrying two heavy carpetbags, a hatbox and Claudette's long, awkward parasol. "I couldn't quite reach the luggage."

"Well, stop making excuses and get down here and meet my fianc� properly," Claudette ordered.

"Yes, mum," Martha said as she slowly made her way down the steps.

"Martha!" Michaela cried, holding out her arm and enveloping her in a hug. "I can't believe it!"

"Yes, miss. Neither can I," she replied. The servant looked rather frazzled after a very long train ride with Claudette, but as always she wore her usual kind smile. "It's good to see you again, dearies," she added, glancing at the children.

"Hey, Martha," Byron said. "Welcome to Colorado!"

"Hey, Martha," Katie added. "Oh, goodie, we can finish our book we were reading in Boston."

"Oh, and is this Eliza?" Martha breathed, her smile widening as she gazed at the happy six-month-old. "Look at those rosy lips! Oh, Miss Michaela! I can't believe my eyes. If she isn't exactly you when you were a baby."

Michaela smiled proudly. "That's what Mother says."

"Martha!" Claudette said impatiently. "Come here, please. You can fritter away with Michaela and those children to your heart's content later. My nose is burning."

Martha scurried over to her and opened the parasol, handing it to her.

"This is Mr. Lodge," Claudette said, grabbing the parasol. "My maid Martha."

"Preston," he replied, shaking her hand.

"You'll call him Mr. Lodge," Claudette corrected. "You're as much his maid as you are mine now. I want you to report to him every day to find out what he needs and then do his bidding."

"That's really not necessary, Claudette," Preston said with a wave of his hand. "I have a large staff at my hotel that takes care of everything."

"No, no, we need a good maid, Preston. A maid is so much different than some scruffy hotel worker. She understands me. She anticipates my every move. Worth every penny."

"If you say so, dear," he replied, too happy to see her to care. "Come on. Let's get to my hotel and you can freshen up."

"Martha, attend to the luggage," she said as she took Preston's arm and they walked to his buggy.

"Are you really going to live here, Martha?" Michaela asked, approaching her again. "But you've lived in Boston your whole life. I never would have believed it."

"Only six months out of the year, miss," she replied as she walked to the luggage car. "The rest of the time we'll be back East."

"Still, six months is a long time," Michaela said.

"Yes," Martha admitted, glancing at Claudette with a raise of her eyebrows. "I'm beginning to see that."

"I'm finished unpacking, mum," Martha said with a little curtsey.

Claudette was working on the wedding plans at the table in her suite. "I don't trust those railroad workers an ounce. Nothing was missing, was it?"

"No, mum."

"That's a miracle. And what about my shoes? Where are they?"

"In the wardrobe, mum."

"Good. I couldn't survive out here without all my beautiful shoes." She paused a moment. "Well, for goodness sake, Martha, go to bed. It's late."

"Oh. Yes, mum. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she said as Martha headed off to the adjoining room and shut the door.

Preston knocked on the door and opened it. "Your accommodations are adequate, Miss Atkins?" he asked.

"Most adequate." She smiled and got to her feet, approaching him. He enveloped her in a big hug and rocked her.

"Oh, how I missed you, Claudette." He kissed her much more passionately than he had at the train station. He gently stroked her cheek with his finger. "Why don't you come to my room tonight? Spend the night with me. Claudette."

"Oh, Preston, really," she protested.

"What? It's not as if we haven't-"

She broke away with a flustered sigh. "That's not the point. The point is we were wrong not to wait until marriage, and we shouldn't continue with such � errant activities � until we're husband and wife."

He stepped toward her and gave her another kiss. "Those errant activities were quite enjoyable."

She blushed. "Yes, well. That's another reason I brought Martha along. To chaperone you. She's just in the next room." She pointed at the door.

"She is? Oh."

She put her arm around him and led him to the table. "I was just working on the guest list. When is your father coming?"

"Next week. When will Mollie and William be here?"

"I haven't heard definitively. But in plenty of time for the wedding, they promised."

He clutched her shoulders lovingly. "Oh, I'm so glad we're together again. I couldn't be happier, Claudette."

She smiled and caressed his cheek. "Me, too."

"Good morning, Harrington," Michaela said as she stepped onto the store porch.

Harrington smiled at her and tipped his hat as he jingled his tin cup of change. "Good morning, Dr. Mike."

She walked into the store with her basket and the baby in her sling. Loren was at the counter flipping through a long leather volume with a scowl on his face. The Reverend sat nearby with a mug of coffee.

"Good morning, Loren. Good morning, Reverend," she said cheerfully.

"Morning, Michaela," the Reverend said.

Loren just grumbled and continued to run his finger down a page.

"Loren, I was hoping to look through some of your catalogues. I think I might order a new dress for Claudette's wedding," Michaela said.

"You know where to find 'em," he muttered, flipping a page roughly.

"She just arrived on yesterday's train and there's so much to do." She walked to the opposite counter and pulled out a few catalogues. "Loren? You look rather pale," she remarked, gazing at him. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine." His eyes lit up. "Ah, here's something. Here's something. Article fifteen section three. 'It shall be unlawful for any person to loiter, remain idle or consort with others in a public place in such a manner as to hinder or impede any public road or interfere in any way with the use of one's property or business.'" He beamed. "Ah-ha! I've got him!"

"You mean Harrington? But he's not idle," Michaela protested, opening one of the catalogues. "And he's not interfering with your business either. And besides, I think that ordinance is rather vague anyway."

"Where's Matthew? I'm gonna go have him arrest him."

"He's been trying to find a way to get rid of Harrington ever since that town council meeting," the Reverend said.

"I wish you would just let this go, Loren," Michaela said. "You're really getting all upset over nothing."

"That's what I keep telling him," the Reverend said.

Loren slammed the town charter shut. "Now see here, Dr. Mike. I'm not gonna let some beggar run my business into the ground. I won't stand for it! I worked hard building this mercantile and I nearly lost it not too long ago what with everybody out of work and all the credit I ended up giving out to everybody and half of them never payin' me back. Now that's not gonna happen again or my name isn't Loren Bray!" He suddenly groaned and hunched over, clutching his side.

Michaela dropped the catalogue on the counter and rushed over to him. "Loren!"

"Loren, what's wrong?" the Reverend asked, standing up.

He hunched over further and grimaced, nearly collapsing.

"Harrington!" Michaela called, glancing outside. "Harrington, I need your help!"

Harrington hurried inside, still clutching his tin cup of change.

"Help me get him over to the clinic," Michaela said, clutching Loren's left arm securely.

Harrington draped Loren's right arm over his shoulders. "Come on, old man. Let's go."

Dorothy burst into the clinic, face flushed. "The Reverend just told me," she said. "Oh, Loren!"

"I'm all right," he muttered, a thermometer between his lips. He was on his back on the new examination table, wearing a hospital gown, as Michaela tenderly felt his abdomen.

"What is it, Michaela?" Dorothy asked.

She removed the thermometer and held it up to the light. "Fever, nausea, pain localized on the right side. It's his appendix."

"Oh, no!" Dorothy exclaimed. "That means surgery, doesn't it?"

"I'm afraid so. I'm going to need to operate immediately before the infection spreads."

"Oh, of all the fool things to happen," Loren grumbled.

Michaela patted his arm. "Everything's going to be fine, Loren. I'm just going to put you to sleep and make a small incision in your abdomen and remove your appendix. It'll be over before you know it."

"I don't know about this. Last person you put to sleep died," Loren remarked sourly.

Michaela paused. "Well, that was, that was an isolated incident. Besides, you've been put under before and I know you tolerate chloroform just fine."

"Oh, Loren. That's not gonna happen again," Dorothy added.

"Hmm," he grumbled, in too much pain to care. "Well, just do it then and get it over with."

"I'll be right outside, Loren," Dorothy said unsteadily. "Don't you worry."

Dorothy bathed Loren's face with a cloth as Michaela felt his pulse. She wrote down the information on his chart and closed it just as Loren's eyes fluttered.

"He's wakin' up!" Dorothy said.

Michaela smiled and held his hand. "Welcome back, Loren. The surgery went very well."

"That's right. You'll be back on your feet in no time," Dorothy added.

Loren blinked at Dorothy for a long moment, then looked at Michaela.

"Do you need anything?" Michaela asked. "Some water?"

"A whiskey," he said hoarsely.

"Loren Bray!" Dorothy scolded. She chuckled. "You'll get no such thing. Now you behave and get your rest so you can come home."

Loren closed his eyes tiredly and Michaela patted Dorothy's shoulder. "He'll be fine."

"Oh, no, no, no," Claudette protested as she crossed off some names on her list fiercely. "Mother, we can't invite them!" she cried.

"Who?" Elizabeth replied blankly as she sat at one end of the caf� table beside Preston and Martha, flipping through paperwork and wedding catalogues.

"This Mr. and Mrs. Davis couple. Those peasants Michaela is always having to supper and church picnics and the like."

"Oh. But Michaela and that sweet young girl are such good friends," Elizabeth protested. "And Sully and Kirk are always working together."

"Whomever Michaela and Sully choose to keep company with is their prerogative, but this is my wedding, not theirs." She rolled her eyes. "Oh, Mother. Think of the society pages. Think of the photographs. It's bad enough we're not getting married in the Catholic cathedral at home. I can't have an army of simpletons in my photographs as well."

Elizabeth cleared her throat. "Oh, well, as you wish, dear. It's your wedding."

"Preston? You don't agree?" she replied.

"Whatever you say, honey," he replied obediently, opening his pocket watch. "I need to get back to my hotel for the evening rush. Will you be joining me?"

"I'll be along later, darling. There's still so much to plan. I'll join you for supper."

He got up and gave her a soft, polite kiss on her cheek. "Good. I'll see you later."

"Hm," Elizabeth muttered disapprovingly as she flipped through more papers and watched Preston leave.

"Oh, what now, Mother?" Claudette exclaimed.

"I don't think you should stay at his hotel. Not until after the wedding," she said resolutely.

Claudette blushed faintly. "Mother, really."

"Lest you forget what happened between you two the last time you stayed there," Elizabeth added sternly.

Claudette glanced at Martha. "Mother, please!"

Martha looked completely unfazed as she made a notation on the guest list. It was hardly the first time Elizabeth had discussed very private family matters in front of her as if she wasn't even in the room. She had long been used to it.

"Well, it's not appropriate. You know I'm right," Elizabeth retorted.

"Martha and I have our own private quarters," Claudette said sternly. "You needn't worry yourself."

"At least he's marrying you. Dignifying this whole embarrassment. I never thought he would."

"Well, what's that supposed to mean?!" Claudette cried.

"Why don't you stay at Michaela's?" Elizabeth said. "After all, now that Brian's married they have that extra room. I'm sure Michaela would be � what's so funny?"

"In that shack with no hot water, and all those uncivilized, screaming little children tearing through the place like wild boars, and a hole in the ground for a water closet?" she chuckled. "With that husband of hers who criticizes and judges and disapproves of my every move? Where you can keep an eye on me as if I'm fourteen years old? I'd rather be sequestered in Andersonville." She stacked her papers together. "Come along, Martha. I need to send a telegram. Martha, hurry up. You dawdle so. Good heavens."

"Yes, mum," Martha said, springing to her feet.

"Oh, you're as bad as Michaela," Elizabeth said. She crossed her arms sourly.

"Don't start. I have to run these errands and pick up a few things at the hotel. I'll be back later, Mother," Claudette said as she headed out of the caf�.

"Why couldn't I have had sons?!" Elizabeth shouted after her.

Michaela opened the back door of the clinic and dumped a basin of water outside. She spotted Harrington leaning against the side of her building, gazing toward the caf�.

"Harrington?" Michaela murmured. "Harrington, did you eat today?"

He glanced at her with embarrassment.

"Come inside," Michaela said. "I have some extra soup on the stove."

He shook his head.

"Harrington, it's just going to go to waste. Please."

He slowly approached her. "Maybe I could do some work for you? In return for the food? And for you being so kind and letting me sleep here."

Michaela gave Sully a fleeting thought. He had specifically instructed her to stay away from Harrington until he came home. But she felt sorry for the drifter just standing there watching everyone else enjoy their meals in the caf�. And she had a feeling he would feel a lot better about taking food and shelter if he were doing something for it in return. She could deal with Sully later. "Yes, I think we could arrange something. Come inside and let's talk."

"You washed and pressed everything?" Claudette asked as she headed down the street with Martha.

"Yes, mum."

"What about supper?"

"It's taken care of. The kitchen will be sending up your meal at seven o'clock. No dairy. I told them twice."

"And you asked Mr. Lodge if he needs anything?"

"Yes, mum. He says he doesn't."

"Well, who knew it was possible but I'm afraid I have nothing for you to do, Martha," she said. "I hate to see you idle like this. And it must be dreadfully hard on you, too."

"Yes, mum," she said obediently.

"Well, give me a minute. I'll think of something you can do." She knocked on the clinic door.

"Come in," Michaela called.

"Good afternoon, Michaela," Claudette said. "We brought over the guest list. Preston and I finalized it yesterday."

Michaela took down a bottle of morphine from her cabinet. "I'm sorry, Claudette. I'm afraid I can't look at it right now. I have a patient upstairs recovering from surgery and somehow I've got to pick up the children from school in five minutes, not to mention the baby needs her bottle warmed up and fed to her."

"Oh, I could go fetch the little dearies from school, miss," Martha immediately offered. "And feed the baby."

Michaela smiled gratefully. "Oh, would you, Martha? That would be wonderful. I just don't know how I'm going to manage everything. Things are always rather hectic when Sully is out of town."

"Well, Martha's not doing anything right now. She should tend to the children the rest of the afternoon," Claudette said.

"I would love to tend to them today," she said with a smile.

Claudette lit up. "Wait a minute, that's it."

"What's it?" Michaela said.

"Frankly, until Preston and I get married and build a house there's really not much for Martha to do. She's done everything I can think of to keep her busy by noontime. When I'm through with her why doesn't she come over here and look after the children so you can work? Be your nanny."

"Nanny?" Michaela said skeptically.

Martha beamed. "Oh, yes, Miss Michaela. I would adore that."

"Really?" Michaela said. "Well, I suppose it would be nice to know the children are safe with you. But�"

"But what?" Claudette said. "What's the problem? You need a nanny. You always have. You can't do it all, Michaela."

"No, I know I could use the help. It's just, if she's going to do that I'm afraid I can't afford to pay her much."

"Oh, nonsense," Claudette said. "Mother's trust pays her more than enough. Mother said she would take care of her and she has. Isn't that right, Martha?"

"Yes, mum. Mrs. Quinn is most generous."

"There, you see? It's settled then! Martha, you'll work for me when I need you and then go help Michaela tame those riotous children the rest of the time."

Martha looked more than pleased with that arrangement. Michaela couldn't tell her no now. Although Martha would never breathe an unkind word about anyone, especially Elizabeth's daughters, Michaela had a feeling working for Claudette was wearing on the old chambermaid more than she was letting on.

"All right. It's settled," Michaela said

"Oh, thank you, miss!" Martha breathed. "How wonderful. I'll go fetch them from school right away. Will you be wanting to see them, miss?"

Michaela looked momentarily confused. "Yes, of course I want to see them. Bring them over here. Please."

"Yes, miss. And then I'll feed the baby, the sweet little dear, and take them all to play in the park."

"Oh. Well, we don't exactly have a park," Michaela said. "But there's the meadow. The children will show you."

"The meadow it is!" She chuckled with delight and then scurried out of the clinic.

Martha was waiting outside the schoolhouse with a big smile as the students piled out. Katie scurried down the steps followed by her brothers.

"Martha?" Katie called skeptically, running up to her. "Where's Mama?"

"Oh, not to worry, dearie. She's fine. You're spending the rest of the day with me!" Martha said, buttoning up the child's jacket.

She beamed. "We are?"

She tapped her nose. "That's right. I'm to be your new nanny!"

Katie squealed and hugged her.

"Nanny? What's a nanny?" Red Eagle blurted.

"It means she looks after us," Katie explained. "Just like when we were in Boston."

"Oh! That was fun!" Red Eagle cried.

"Yeah, remember all the cookies you gave us?" Byron added.

"How was school?" Martha asked, grasping Byron's hand. "You studied hard and behaved I hope. Do you have homework?"

"Just a little," Byron fibbed.

"I see. Well, we'll do it later. Right now your mother wants to see you, and then we're going to take the baby to the meadow to play. Fresh air is very good for children's constitutions. I took your mother for brisk walks every day around Beacon Hill when she was a wee girl."

"You mean we don't gotta do homework first?" Byron blurted. "Yippie!"

"Know something, Martha?" Red Eagle said. "I'm gonna like having a nanny."

"Me, too!" Katie cried, grabbing her other hand.

"And I'm going to like being your nanny," Martha replied with a chuckle.

Martha rocked Eliza in the rocking chair in front of the master bedroom fireplace. Martha had wound up the phonograph and the new-fangled machine had been playing Braham's Lullaby over and over for several minutes while Martha hummed along. The music put the baby right to sleep, though Martha was hesitant to tuck her in just yet. It had been so long since she had such a little baby to look after, and she was nostalgic for the days when Elizabeth's daughters were this tiny and left to her care. As much as she was happy as the family's chambermaid, her true love was children and being a nanny. In fact, that was the expectation when she was a young woman and Elizabeth hired her when Rebecca was four months old, that for the most part she would be looking after the baby and any future children that were sure to come along. As the girls grew up and needed her less and less, she became more of Elizabeth's personal servant.

She was thrilled to be in charge of Michaela's children, and especially excited there was a new baby in the house. Babies in particular she just adored. And Eliza looked so much like Michaela when she was a baby, it was almost as if she were back in Boston again in the nursery safe and warm from a harsh February snowstorm, looking after Elizabeth and Josef's fifth child while Josef was on his rounds and Elizabeth was off somewhere feeling sorry for herself, wanting nothing to do with the new baby who wasn't a son. Martha however didn't care what the baby was, and fortunately for Michaela she was happy to look after her every moment day and night until Elizabeth eventually came out of her stupor and realized no amount of sulking was going to change that baby's gender.

Finally Martha put Eliza in her crib with a kiss and covered her warmly. She left the phonograph to wind down on its own and quietly left the room, shutting the door.

"Everyone's asleep, Mrs. Quinn," she said as she descended the staircase.

Elizabeth was threading a needle at the kitchen table, her needlepoint beside her. "Oh, good. Thank you, Martha. You may go."

"Good evening," she said with a curtsey. She took her cape down from the rack and exited out the front door with a content smile.

Michaela opened the front door and put her bag on the table. Elizabeth was working on her needlepoint in her wheelchair and the house was very quiet.

"I'm sorry I missed supper, Mother," Michaela said. "There was an emergency."

"Yes, Martha told me about Loren. How's he doing?"

"Just fine. Dorothy's with him. He should be able to go home in a few days."

"Oh, good. Perhaps I could visit him once he's feeling up to it."

"Certainly." She hung up her jacket.

"Oh, there's some soup on the stove for you, dear. Still warm."

She glanced in the empty cradle near the hearth. "Where are the children? Where's the baby? You could hear a pin drop in here."

"Oh, in bed. Martha tucked them in before she left."

"Martha put them to bed? But it's only a quarter to eight," Michaela protested.

"You know how Martha has always been about bedtime. No exceptions. I suppose I can't blame her. A tired child makes for an unhappy nanny the next morning."

"Martha put me to bed this early?" Michaela asked curiously. "I don't remember that."

"Oh, yes. She always insisted on it. That was always her territory. I didn't say anything."

"Oh." She swallowed hard and lingered at the table for a long moment.

Elizabeth glanced up. "What's wrong, Michaela? You should go get something to eat. You had quite a long day."

"Nothing, I just, I was going to nurse the baby. Usually I nurse her before bedtime. It helps to settle her. And I always read to the children."

"Oh, well, they're fine. They're counting sheep as we speak. Now go have some of that delicious soup. Martha made it."

Michaela sighed and slowly headed off to the kitchen.

Harrington finished sweeping the upstairs hallway and then opened the last recovery room door.

"Ah! What in tarnation!" Loren exclaimed. He was sitting up in bed with a copy of the Gazette Dorothy had given him, and a cigar. "What are you doin' here?"

"Morning, Mr. Bray. I don't think you should be smoking. Didn't you just have an operation?"

"None of your business. You didn't answer my question."

He glanced at his broom and dustpan. "I'm helping out Dr. Mike. She said I should sweep the upstairs."

"Well, get to it then," Loren ordered. "Sweep."

Harrington swept behind the door. "How are you feeling after your operation?"

"I feel just fine." He took a puff of his cigar.

"Can I get you anything?"

"Didn't you say you had work to do? Get to it and let me read my newspaper in peace," Loren replied grouchily.

Michaela struggled to update her medical chart as Byron tore past her, running his hand across the back of her chair as he went. Thankfully Katie was entertaining Eliza at the bassinet with the baby's rag doll, but the boys were racing around the room chasing each other and shouting.

"Boys, please," Michaela finally spoke up. "Please, Mama's trying to work."

"Can't we go home?" Byron whined. "We been here all day."

"We will. After I finish this," she said. "And we have not been here all day."

"I want Martha," Byron said. "She does fun stuff with us."

"Yeah, I want Nanny Martha," Red Eagle said.

Michaela glanced up. "Martha's busy helping Auntie with the wedding right now. She can't play with you today."

"I like Martha," Byron said. "I wish she could play with us all the time. Be our nanny forever."

Red Eagle touched Byron's arm. "You're it!"

Michaela didn't know why she felt hurt to hear the boys pining for their nanny. She had no reason to feel guilty. They were old enough to play quietly by themselves for a few hours while she worked, and certainly old enough to be expected to be patient.

Red Eagle tore past one of the cots as Byron chased him. Red Eagle hit his foot hard on one of the posts. He screeched and got down on the floor, clutching his boot. "Mama!"

Michaela quickly got up, raising her eyebrows. "Oh, what happened?"

"My foot. I hurt my foot," he cried, eyes welling with tears.

Byron got down beside him. "Uh-oh."

Red Eagle began crying and hugged Michaela's arm. "I hurt my toe. Ow! Ma. Mama."

Michaela unlaced his shoe and pulled off his sock, gently feeling his toes. "You just stubbed your toe, sweetheart. You're all right. It's not broken or even so much as sprained."

"It hurts," he whined.

She sighed as she helped him back on with his shoe. "I'm sorry you hurt yourself but you shouldn't be running indoors. You know better. That goes for you, too, Byron. Why can't you play quietly like Katie does?"

"Yeah," Katie said smugly.

Byron shrugged. "I don't know. We're boys."

"That's not a good excuse in my book. I know, why don't you go upstairs and play in one of the empty recovery rooms? Read one of Mama's books up there. But leave Mr. Bray alone. He's sleeping."

The boys trudged off upstairs and Michaela breathed a sigh of relief at the quiet. She shook her head in exasperation and sat back down at her desk, returning her attention to her work.

Not five seconds later Claudette threw open the door, wearing a beautiful traveling gown and matching purse and hat. "Goodbye, Michaela. We'll return Sunday night."

"Goodbye?" she blurted. "Where are you going?"

"Where you going, Auntie?" Katie added as she bounced Eliza's rag doll along the edge of the bassinet.

"I told you, didn't I? Preston and I have an appointment in Denver to meet with the caterers for the wedding. And we need to shop for my bridesmaids dresses and suits for the boys."

"Byron and Red Eagle? You don't have to get them suits."

"Yes, I do. What exactly are they going to wear if we don't? Overalls and cowboy hats? Over my dead body."

"Well, they'll wear their Sunday suits and ties," she said, putting her pen down. "They're very nice. At least I think so."

"You think so, do you?" Claudette replied. "Well, we'll have to agree to disagree there."

"Claudette, the truth is Sully and I really can't afford suits from Denver for them. I suppose I could make them new suits if you pick out the material," she said. "I'll find the time. Somehow."

"Michaela, store bought. Store bought," Claudette said, shaking her head. "Photographs, remember? The Society pages. The Boston Globe. Ring a bell? I'll pay for them, not to worry. Please, just let me do this. Do it for me."

She hesitated. This was just another thing Sully wasn't going to like. But she was too tired to get into an argument with Claudette about it. If Sully was angry, he was going to have to take it up with Claudette. "If it's that important to you, all right. Thank you."

"It is important. How this wedding looks is everything. Oh, Martha's coming with us. I need her help. You and the children'll be all right for a few days without the nanny, won't you? You don't mind if Martha comes along with me?"

Michaela hesitated. She had managed on her own with the children just fine in the past, but this time seemed different. In the past she had Brian's help. But he was married now and couldn't be around as much. The boys weren't exactly behaving and Eliza was cranky and cutting a tooth. Her mother was good with the baby, but she couldn't drive the children to town by herself or run errands and help with other things Michaela needed to be done. Besides, Elizabeth had things to do for the wedding herself. Meanwhile the clinic was as busy as ever. And the post was so slow she hadn't heard one word from Sully to help get her through all the chaos of late. Truthfully she would have liked Martha's help. But she had a feeling Claudette wasn't really asking for her opinion.

"Well, I-"

"Good!" Claudette replied, glancing at the clock. "The train's about to leave. We'll see you Sunday. Kiss Mother for me. Goodbye, Katie dear."

"Bye, Auntie. Have fun in Denver."

"Have a safe trip," Michaela said as Claudette breezed out the door and slammed it shut.

"I've already read all these books," Red Eagle said impatiently as he perused the bookshelf upstairs. "I don't want to read one again."

"Me neither," Byron said. He jumped up onto the recovery bed and started bouncing.

Red Eagle joined him and bounced beside him, giggling.

"Hey, I got an idea," Byron said suddenly, bounding down from the bed and walking to the lamp.

Red Eagle followed him over. "What?"

Byron opened the drawer, taking out a box of matches and sliding them open. "We could play Cheyenne! Light our peace pipe!" he said. "I'll be the chief."

"I wanna be the chief," Red Eagle protested.

"I get to be the chief. I said first. You can be the medicine man."

"Oh, all right. Fine." He scurried across the room and shut the door tightly.

Byron pulled out a thick match and held it up. "Ho-ho. I come to make peace."

Red Eagle giggled. "It's Hah-ho."

"That's what I said," Byron protested. He struck the match against the box. Much to his surprise, it burst into a bright flame.

"Whoa! Fire!" Red Eagle cried.

Startled, Byron quickly blew out the match.

"Why'd you blow it out?" Red Eagle asked. "Are you scared?"

"No," Byron said, tossing the match into the nearby dustbin. "Are you?"

"No. Give me one. I'll light it."

Byron handed him the box. Red Eagle pulled out a match and struck it against the box a few times until it lit. He quickly pulled back the globe on the lamp and tried to light it. But the match started to burn down close to his fingers and he chickened out and blew it out.

"You're scared, too!" Byron accused.

"I am not," Red Eagle protested, tossing the match into the dustbin. "I just � I never lit a lamp before. It's hard."

Byron grabbed another match. "I can do it. I'm not scared." He struck it against the box and it burst into flame.

"Boys, where are you?!" Michaela called.

Byron threw the match in the dustbin and they scrambled to put the matches back where they were in the drawer. They rushed to the door just as Michaela opened it, wearing her jacket.

"What were you doing in here?" she asked suspiciously. "Why was the door closed?"

Byron averted his eyes, shutting the door behind them. "Nothin'. Making peace. We're Cheyenne."

"Oh, I see. Well, next time you're Cheyenne could you please keep the door open? You make me nervous when you lock yourselves away somewhere and are this quiet."

"Yes, ma'am," Red Eagle said, hands behind his back innocently.

Michaela looked down at them skeptically. "Boys?"

Byron shared a nervous glance with Red Eagle. "Yeah?" he whispered with trepidation.

"Were you bothering Mr. Bray?" She sighed. "You woke him up, didn't you? After I specifically told you not to. I don't know what to do with you two. When your father hears about this."

"Oh, no, ma'am, we didn't," Red Eagle said with relief.

"No. We left him alone just like you told us, Mama," Byron said.

"Is that the truth?"

"Yes, ma'am," they both said.

"Good, I'm happy to hear that. I'm all finished. Are you ready to go home now?"

"Uh-huh," Red Eagle said eagerly.

"Can we get a pie from Grace's for supper?" Byron asked as they headed down the hallway.

She eyed him wryly. "You really think your behavior today warrants a pie from Grace's?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

"Yes, ma'am," Red Eagle added. "A chocolate one."

She chuckled. "Oh, all right, we'll see what she has."

"Yippie!" they both cried as they scurried down the stairs ahead of her.

"Here's your supper, Loren," Dorothy said cheerfully as she entered the room with a tray of food from Grace's, her shawl over her shoulders.

Loren was puffing on another cigar contentedly, leaning back against his pillows.

"Loren Bray!" she exclaimed, taking it from his lips and snuffing it out by pushing the end against a newspaper on the table. "I told you no more of these. You're a sick man!"

"I'm not sick. Even Dr. Mike said it was just minor surgery."

"Well, I don't care. No more cigars. At least until you get home." She pulled back the covers and found his cigar box hidden under his pillow. "Who brought these to you? Jake? I'm takin' these back to the store and you're not to touch 'em!" She found a flask of whiskey. "Loren! And this too!" She opened the box and put his used cigar inside.

"Oh, Dorothy," he muttered, crossing his arms. "Spoil all my fun."

She laid the tray across his lap, glancing at the clock. "Eat your super now. Loren, do you mind if the Reverend stays with you this evening? Michaela just left to go home."

He took a sip of broth. "Why? What are you up to?"

"It's just this article I've been workin' on. I had an interview scheduled." She paused. "But I won't go if you don't want me to. I can reschedule."

"No, you go on ahead. Like I said, I'm not sick."

"You sure?"

"And you don't need to ask the Reverend to stay either. I'll be fine. I'll just finish my supper, go to sleep."

"Well, all right. Behave yourself. I'll check in on you as soon as I get back."

He took another sip of broth. "Thanks for bringin' this over."

She smiled, tucking the cigar box under her arm. "You're welcome."

Harrington knocked on the clinic door, rubbing his arm against the chilly air.

"Dr. Mike?" he called. He waited a long moment and then looked in her window. The room was dark. Apparently she had already left for the day. He went back to the door and found the key above the doorsill, took it down and unlocked the door.

"He'll be back on his feet by the end of the week," Michaela said as she opened the pot of stew on the stove and stirred it.

"Oh, I'm sure. I don't think anything can stop Loren," Elizabeth said with a chuckle. She was sitting at the table and feeding the baby some warm, pureed cereal while Katie helped slice some bread from a fresh loaf.

Michaela smiled. "No, probably not." She grabbed the pot of stew with two towels and lifted it off the stove just as Red Eagle and Byron came tearing into the room, chasing each other again.

Byron collided with Michaela and tried to hide behind her.

Michaela gasped and quickly put the pot on the counter. "Boys! I nearly spilled hot stew all over you!"

"You need to stop running in the house before someone gets hurt," Elizabeth added.

"You're in trouble," Katie gloated.

"Your papa told you to behave and obey Mama while he's gone," Michaela said sternly. "But all you've been the past few days is disobedient. You know our rules about running indoors."

The boys suddenly looked guilty.

"Sorry, Ma," Red Eagle whispered.

She squeezed his shoulder. "I don't mind if you want to chase each other. Just please do it outside, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am," Byron said.

"Yes, ma'am," Red Eagle said.

They rushed out the door, leaving it swinging open.

"Boys! Close the door!" Michaela cried. "For heaven's sake."

Byron ran back and slammed the door hard behind him.

Michaela raised her eyebrows. "I don't know what's gotten into them lately. Sully's going to be livid when he hears about this."

"Growing boys. I've heard about them," Elizabeth said wryly. "I still say girls are much easier to raise."

"Yeah, we are," Katie said with a giggle.

Michaela smiled and kissed the little girl's head. "I'm beginning to agree with you."

Hank wrapped his arm around one of his girls as he watched a poker game between Jake, Horace and three other men from out of town. A pile of coins and several bills were in the middle of the table.

Jake and another young man were the only people left in the hand. They both stared at each other across their cards.

"Call," the man said, pushing his money forward and removing his cigar. "Show 'em."

Jake slowly laid down his cards. "Aces over tens."

"Ya got 'im, Jake," Hank said.

Jake smiled and started to pull the cash toward him.

"Not so fast, partner," the man said. He laid down his cards. "Four kings." He laughed and put his cigar back in his mouth, drawing the money toward him.

"What the �?" Jake said. He slammed the table with his fist. "Damn!"

"Wait a minute!" Horace said. "You can't have four kings. I had a king. And I've never seen a deck with five kings!"

"He's a cheat!" Jake cried. "I want my money back!"

Hank glared at the man. "That's the last time, Smitey. Outta my saloon."

He held up his hands. "Wait, I'm no cheat. He's lying. Hank!"

"Horace don't lie." Hank got up and grabbed his collar. "Get out!" He dragged him outside while the men inside clapped and whistled and laughed. He pushed him in the dust. "And don't come back!"

"Hank, come on," Smitey protested. "We was just havin' a little fun. No harm done. Come on, deal me in."

Hank looked up at the clinic in disbelief. Black smoke was bellowing from the sides of the doors and flames shot out the upstairs windows.

Smitey turned around to see what he was looking at and got to his feet. "Jesus," he breathed. "The whole thing's gone up."

Hank ran over to the town bell and rang it as hard as he could. "Fire! Fire!" he shouted at the top of his lungs.

Michaela took down a stack of plates and handed a few to Katie to put around the table.

Byron suddenly opened the door again. "Mama!"

Michaela pointed at the door. "Outside, young man."

"But Mama, we see smoke," he said. "Lots of it."

"Smoke?" she replied, putting aside her dishtowel and walking quickly to the door.

Sure enough a black cloud of smoke was rising up several miles to the southeast. Dark smoke usually meant some kind of structure was burning, and Michaela was immediately very concerned. "It looks like it's coming from town, or close by," she remarked.

"Whoa, a big fire," Red Eagle remarked from the porch stairs. "Can we go watch, Ma?"

"No, I don't think that's a good idea," she replied, quickly walking back inside and grabbing her jacket. "Mother, there's some kind of fire near town. I need to ride out there."

Elizabeth looked out the window. "My goodness. It looks serious. Michaela, perhaps you should stay here where you'll be safe."

She grabbed her medical bag off the table. "People could be hurt. They might need me. I should go to town."

"Well, if you say so."

"Please can we come, Mama?" Byron pleaded. "We won't get in the way."

"Yeah, can we, Ma?" Red Eagle added.

"I said no," she replied.

"But-" Red Eagle began.

"I'm not saying it again," she retorted. "You eat your supper and stay here with your grandmother until Mama gets home, do you understand?"

Byron heaved a sigh and sunk into a kitchen table chair. "You're mean," he muttered. "I can't wait until Martha comes back from Denver."

Michaela swallowed hard, hurt. She didn't know what to say to that.

"Byron," Elizabeth scolded.

"But Mama never lets us do anything, Gran'ma!" he griped.

"Oh, don�t exaggerate. Besides, you're eight years old. You are absolutely not going to go chasing after some huge fire and that's the end of it," Elizabeth told him.

Defeated, he crossed his arms. "Fine."

Michaela knew Byron and Red Eagle were upset with her right now, but at the moment she was needed in town more. She would have to deal with the boys later. She kissed the baby and then gave Red Eagle and Byron and Katie each a kiss. "I love you. You stay here," she said. "Thank you, Mother. Goodbye."

"Be careful, dear," Elizabeth said.

"Bye, Mommy," Katie whispered.

"More buckets!" Matthew cried as half a dozen men worked to save the clinic from the fierce flames that were engulfing it, among them Robert E., Horace, Jake, Brian, and Harrington.

"Get it on the roof!" Jake instructed. "Water on the roof! Over here!"

Hank was busy watering down the saloon while several of his girls watched the fire in terror from the porch.

"Hank!" Matthew called. "Hank, we need more water over here!"

"I don't want any sparks catchin' my place on fire!" he called back.

Matthew shook his head at him and grabbed another bucket, dipping it into the large container of water in the center of town.

Dorothy came galloping down the street, wearing her shawl and carrying her purse. "Matthew!" she cried as she dismounted. "Matthew, I just got into town! What happened?"

He tossed another bucket full of water up on the clinic roof. "We don't know. It just all went up ten minutes ago."

"Loren! Loren's in there!" she cried, pressing her hands to her heart. "Loren!"

"What?" Matthew uttered. "But Dr. Mike's got the place all locked up. We didn't think anybody was in there!"

"He just had surgery. He's been recoverin' upstairs! He said he'd be fine while I went out to the Aaron Ranch for a article I been workin' on. Oh, my God, Loren!"

"I thought he would be home by now!" Harrington said. "I coulda sworn nobody was here!"

"Where is he?" Matthew shouted.

Dorothy pointed upstairs to the far recovery room, tears falling down her cheeks. She could see flames shooting from his window and she feared Loren didn't have a chance.

"I'll get him!" Harrington spoke up, dropping his bucket. "I know right where he is!"

"Mister, wait!" Matthew shouted.

"You're gonna kill yourself!" Robert E. added.

Harrington ignored them and quickly scaled the porch stairs, coughing and fighting smoke. He kicked open a window, shattering glass everywhere, and forced himself inside.

Michaela galloped up to the scene, shock all across her face as she realized the thick cloud of smoke was the result of her clinic ablaze.

"Matthew, Loren was in there!" she exclaimed as she dismounted.

"Harrington went after him," Matthew said.

She looked at the flames in disbelief. "Oh, my God, what happened?"

"Nobody knows," Robert E. said.

Michaela rushed to the door and fumbled with her key, but Matthew grabbed her arm, holding her back.

"Stay back, Dr. Mike!"

"Ma, don't!" Brian added.

"My medical records, my instruments!" she protested with a cough. "No, let me go!" She touched the doorknob with her gloved hand, but it was blazing hot. She snatched her hand back with a cry.

"It's too late," Matthew said, holding her arm tightly. "It's too late!"

Michaela took out her handkerchief and covered her mouth and nose, coughing some more. Dorothy stood helplessly watching the blaze, tears pouring down her cheeks. Michaela walked over to her and put her arm tightly around her to comfort her.

"Loren's in there, Michaela," Dorothy said in disbelief.

"I know, I know," she murmured tearfully, holding her closer.

Suddenly Harrington kicked open another window from inside and tumbled out of it. Then he reached his arms in and dragged Loren out to the porch.

"Mr. Bray!" Brian cried.

"Loren! Oh, thank God!" Dorothy added.

Brian and Robert E. rushed up the stairs. They helped Harrington guide Loren down the steps. He was coughing violently and his face was covered with soot.

"Oh, Loren!" Dorothy said as she hurried over to him.

Michaela found a cloth in her medical bag and handed it to him to wipe off his face.

"You'll be all right, Loren. Just take some deep breaths."

"What in tarnation?" he demanded. "I was just trying to sleep and I woke up to a room full of smoke!"

"Oh, Loren!" Dorothy cried. "Thank goodness Harrington was brave enough to run in there after you! I thought you'd never make it out alive!"

Loren regarded the homeless man begrudgingly.

"You all right, old man?" Harrington replied.

"Do I look all right?!" he retorted as he kept wiping his face. "I almost near burned up in there and now I'm standing in the middle of town in my nightclothes!"

"Get him over to the store. He should drink some water and lie down," Michaela instructed. "I'll be there shortly."

Brian and Dorothy and Harrington guided Loren carefully over to the store. A moment later Michaela heard a horrible creaking and splintering coming from the clinic. She looked up as the roof slowly collapsed into the flames, emitting a shower of sparks.

"Get back," Matthew said, quickly pulling her away. "Everybody get back! It's too dangerous!" He reluctantly dropped his bucket to the ground. "I'm sorry, Dr. Mike. Nothin' else we can do to stop it."

She covered her mouth with her handkerchief again and watched tearfully as what was left of the building slowly disappeared into the blistering flames.

Michaela stared at the smoldering wreckage in total disbelief. She had saved so many patients from death among those walls, brought hundreds of babies into the world, and improved the lives of so many. And it was there that she said goodbye to the closest of friends and family, including Brian's mother, Ingrid, and her sister Marjorie.

She was a bold, rather naive young doctor when Sully first tore down the boards on that building and opened it up for her to use during the influenza epidemic. She thought she knew everything there was to know about medicine back then. She had since learned so much. Not just about advances in conventional medicine and everything Cloud Dancing had taught her about herbs and other Indian remedies, but about what it truly meant to be there for her patients. How much a kind word or just holding someone's hand could mean to someone sick or in pain or even dying.

Over the years she had fallen in love with Sully, gotten married, and was raising a family. She and Sully had shared their first kiss on the clinic porch. She dressed for their wedding in one of the upstairs recovery rooms. Within those walls she found out she was pregnant with their first baby. And each of her children had spent hours upon hours in the clinic by her side, first sleeping as babies in the bassinette, then toddling around at her feet, then as they grew older, doing homework at her desk or helping her clean or roll bandages while she talked and laughed and bonded with them. Aside from the homestead, the clinic was the most important place in the world to her.

But it was gone now. It seemed there was nothing left of the practice she had devoted more than ten years of her life to.

"Are you all right? You should sit down," Harrington said, looking at Michaela worriedly.

"I'm all right," she replied dismissively.

Jake tossed aside his water bucket and walked up to Harrington.

"All right, how'd it happen?" Jake demanded.

Harrington put his bucket aside, perplexed. "I don't know."

"Matthew, arrest him," Jake ordered.

"Hold on, Jake," Matthew said, pulling off his gloves. "Let's not jump to conclusions."

"I've seen Dr. Mike taking him in when the weather gets cold," Jake said. "He's even been sleeping in there, haven't you?"

Harrington looked momentarily embarrassed. "Yes, I have. Dr. Mike was kind enough to-"

"Nobody else was in the clinic except Loren," Jake explained. "Ain't that right?"

"Yes, but I didn't do it," Harrington said.

"What are you sayin'? You sayin' it was Loren?!" Jake cried.

Harrington hesitated and glanced at the store. "No. It couldn't of been him."

"Right. So that leaves you."

Dorothy walked out of the front door of the store and headed over to Michaela.

"Jake, why would Harrington set a fire?" Michaela asked.

"It doesn't matter why. It matters he did it. When I became mayor of this town a third term I promised I was gonna put a stop to crime. Well, I'm saying he's a suspect and he's got to be arrested."

"But he saved Loren!" Michaela exclaimed. "He risked his life!"

"That's right. Loren wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for him," Dorothy added.

"Oh, he just did that so nobody would think it was him!" Jake retorted. He glared at Harrington. "Well, we all see right through you."

Michaela looked at Harrington pleadingly. "Tell me you didn't do this, Harrington."

He bent his head and didn't reply.

"Jake-" Matthew spoke up.

"Is he a suspect or ain't he, sheriff?" Jake demanded.

Matthew looked at Michaela helplessly. "He admits he was at the scene of the crime." He took out his handcuffs.

"Don't worry, Dr. Mike. We'll have him swinging from a rope in no time," Jake said.

"He's gonna get a chance to explain this all to the judge first, Jake," Matthew said. He glanced at Harrington. "Judge Webster's a fair man. He'll sort this out." He gently handcuffed Harrington's hands in front of him. "Come on, let's head over to jail."

"Matthew, wait!" Michaela cried.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Mike," he replied quietly.

Michaela watched them disappear around the bend.

"Michaela, you should go home," Dorothy said. "It's getting dark. There's not much you can do here until morning."

"I should check on Loren," she said fleetingly.

"He's fine. I'm gonna stay with him tonight. We'll let you know if we need you."

Michaela nodded solemnly and headed for her horse.

Michaela slowly opened the front door and walked inside, tiredly putting her medical bag on the kitchen table.

Elizabeth was in the sitting room with the children. Byron and Red Eagle were playing checkers and Katie was in her lap reading a story.

"Mama, we waited up for you," Byron called. "Gran'ma let us."

Soot marked her clothes and there were streaks of ash across her face.

"Michaela?" Elizabeth said. "All that smoke was making us so worried."

"It's gone," she whispered hoarsely.

Elizabeth put Katie on her feet and slowly stood up, clutching her cane. "What's gone?"

"The clinic."

"What do you mean?"

"It burned to the ground. There's nothing left. It was too late to do anything."

"Oh, Michaela!" Elizabeth exclaimed, hurrying over to her.

Michaela hugged her numbly as tears slipped down her cheeks, streaking the soot and dirt.

Byron and Red Eagle exchanged sorrowful glances. Katie slowly approached her.

"The clinic burned down, Mommy?" Katie whispered.

Michaela nodded and put her arm around her snuggly.

"How? How did this happen?" Elizabeth asked. "Is Loren all right?! Loren was staying in the upstairs recovery room!"

"He's fine. He's all right. Harrington pulled him out. He saved his life. No one was hurt."

"Oh, thank God."

She shook her head. "We don't know how it happened. No one knows. Jake made Matthew arrest Harrington for it. But I'm not sure I believe this was his fault."

"Tell me what I can do," Elizabeth said. "I can make you some tea, or something to eat. Or perhaps you'd like a bath?"

"Thank you, Mother, but I just want to go to bed right now. I have to go out there at first light tomorrow and see if there's anything I can salvage. It was too dark to do much else tonight."

"Yes, of course. We'll come with you."

Michaela stooped and kissed Katie lovingly. "Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Night," Katie whispered.

"Goodnight, boys," Michaela called.

Byron swallowed hard. "Night, Mama," he said softly.

Katie came into Michaela's bedroom shortly after midnight and silently cuddled up with her mother. An hour or so later Red Eagle wandered in and got in bed, too. A few hours after that, Byron came in, stuffed puppy in tow, and fell asleep hugging Michaela's arm. Michaela didn't tell them they should go back to their own beds. Their little arms around her were reassuring, and she had even managed to get a little sleep cocooned in their embrace. Her clinic was gone, but thankfully the people most important to her were all safe. It made her feel better to try to keep it all in perspective.

"Mama, what's going to happen?" Byron finally whispered at about five in the morning when none of them could sleep any longer.

"What do you mean?" she replied as she slowly stroked his hair.

"How will you be a doctor? Your doctor things all burned up."

"I don't know, sweetheart," she admitted. "I don't know what's going to happen."

"But who's going to take care of the sick people?" Red Eagle asked.

"Well, I still have my medical bag. I can still make house calls. And my patients can always go to Dr. Cook. He'll help out."

"We can build a new clinic. Papa can. He's really good at building things," Katie said.

"I just haven't thought about all of this yet, sweetheart," Michaela said. "But building a new clinic would cost a lot of money. Not to mention replacing my medical instruments and supplies. I just don't know yet if we're going to be able to do that."

"But you gotta," Byron protested. "You can't stop being a doctor."

"I wish Papa was here," Red Eagle whispered. "He'd know what to do. He'd make it better."

Michaela didn't know why she lost it right then, but the tears suddenly cane in droves. She didn't want to cry in front of the children, but she couldn't help it. The children looked momentarily lost and a little afraid, but then all three of them hugged her and kissed her and held her as tight as they could.

"I'm sorry," she finally said desperately. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Mama," Byron whispered as he kissed her forehead again. "The clinic was really special."

"Yeah," Red Eagle said. "It's all right to be sad."

"Don't worry, Mama," Katie said. "Papa will fix it. We'll help."

"Oh. I love you all so much," Michaela murmured. "I'm so glad you're here."

"Here, chick chick," Byron whispered as he nudged one of the hens aside and grabbed an egg from her nest.

Red Eagle walked over with two more brown eggs and added them to Byron's basket.

"That's all the eggs on my side," he murmured.

"All right. I just have this one left." Byron stepped down the row and nudged at another hen. "Chick chick, move. Gotta get your egg."

The chicken squawked and lunged at his hand, pecking it angrily.

"Ouch!" Byron cried, snatching his hand away and clutching it.

"You all right?" Red Eagle said.

Byron pressed his hand to his mouth bravely. "Yeah. Stupid hen."

"Let me get it," Red Eagle said. He darted his hand beneath the hen and quickly pulled out her egg.

"Red Eagle?" Byron whispered.

Red Eagle placed the egg in the basket. "Yeah?"

"You think Harrington burned down Mama's clinic?"

"I don't know. Matthew put him in jail."

"Why would Harrington do that? Mama was nice to him. She gave him a place to stay."

Red Eagle sighed and leaned against the back wall of the chicken coop. "I know."

"Red Eagle, we were.... we were playing with matches," Byron said unsteadily. "You don't think maybe those matches .... ? Red Eagle, what're we gonna do?"

Tears welled in his eyes. "I don't know. Mama was so sad last night. She cried. If we tell her about the matches . "

Byron shook his head. "She finds out we burned down the clinic, she'll hate us. She'll cry forever."

"Then we can't tell. We just can't tell," Red Eagle said.

"Not ever," Byron added. "I promise."

"I promise, too." Red Eagle put his arm around him reassuringly. "Sides, maybe it was Harrington. He always stayed there. I think he set the fire."

"Yeah, maybe," Byron said as they headed out of the chicken coup together.

Michaela walked among the burned and charred remains of her clinic, her face drawn. Brian and Sarah were on the outskirts raking among all the ashes trying to salvage anything. Robert E. and Jake were over by what was left of the porch stairs, examining them for instability and trying to remove the most dilapidated of the charred boards.

Michaela found the remnants of her desk and file cabinet, barely recognizable. Bits of glass from her medicine cabinet were scattered all over the ground. She squatted down and found what looked like a book. She opened up the charred pages. It was an anatomy textbook of her father's, a gift he had given her the day she graduated from medical school. She clutched it to her chest as tears fell down her cheeks.

"Mama?" Red Eagle whispered as she approached. He and Byron and Katie were all standing next to the wagon.

"No, sweetheart. Get back," she said hoarsely. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Mama, can I help?" he asked timidly.

"There's nothing to do," she replied solemnly, walking back to the wagon where the children were waiting. "It's all gone."

Elizabeth was cradling the baby in the wagon seat, slowly shaking her head. "Oh, Michaela. I'm so sorry."

Byron coughed hard and held onto the wagon wheel for balance. Katie gently patted his back.

Matthew came around the bend, holding a telegram.

"Mornin', Dr. Mike," he said, walking over to her and giving her a gentle hug. "How ya holdin' up?"

"I'm all right," she said with a little nod.

"Listen, I got in touch with the circuit judge. He ain't gonna be able to come out this way until at least next month."

"Next month? You mean Harrington's going to have to sit in jail all that time?"

"Afraid so. And it also means we're gonna have to leave the clinic the way it is as much as we can until then. The judge'll wanna take a look at the damage."

She sighed. "That's all right. It's not as if we have the money to rebuild anyway."

"You'll find it," Matthew said, clutching her shoulder reassuringly. "When's Sully due home?"

"Tomorrow, thank God," she replied.

"Good. You make sure you let him know I'm gonna get to the bottom of this as soon as I can. Don't worry."

"I'll tell him. Thank you, Matthew."

Byron coughed harder and gasped for air. "Mama. Mama, help me."

Michaela spun around and hurried over to him. "Byron? What is it?"

"Asthma," he gasped.

"Oh. Mother, my bag. Hurry."

Elizabeth immediately reached for her medical bag on the wagon floor and handed it down to her. Michaela found her chloroform and poured some onto a cloth, holding it over his nose. "You're all right, sweetheart. It's just a small one. Try to relax."

He coughed hard into the cloth and hunched over.

"It's all right," she soothed. "It's probably just from all this soot and ash. You shouldn't breathe it in."

"Here, come over here and sit down," Matthew said, leading him to the porch stoop and smoothing his hair. "You been helpin' out Ma what with Sully gone?"

He nodded breathlessly. "I help ... milk the cow."

"Good. That's real good."

"I tried not to s-spill again," he replied.

Matthew smiled and rubbed his back. "I know ya tried real hard."

Michaela removed the cloth. "Good boy. I think it's over." She held him to her and he hugged her tightly. "I just want Sully here, Matthew," she whispered.

"Don't worry, he will be," Matthew replied reassuringly.

Michaela rinsed sudsy water from Eliza's chest and then smoothed a few handfuls of water down the baby's hair. Eliza looked up at her intently, as if sensing her mother's grief.

"There you are, my baby girl," she crooned. "Does that feel good?" She lifted her out of the little tub and wrapped her in a warm towel, then walked into the dining room to dry her by the fire. "She's fresh as a daisy," she remarked to Elizabeth and the children, who were just finishing up the last of their homework at the table.

"Do we have to go to school tomorrow, Ma?" Red Eagle asked.

"Oh, sweetheart, I don't know. I think you should."

"Aw," Byron said. "We wanna stay with you."

"That's sweet of you. But school will help take your minds off it," she said.

"Your mother's right. You should go," Elizabeth said as she looked over Katie's spelling words.

Claudette opened the door without knocking, Martha on her heels. She was holding a thick folder and her muff.

"Hey, Aunt Claudie! Hey, Martha!" Byron cried. "We missed you!"

The chambermaid smiled and walked over to hug him. "I'll pick you up from school tomorrow, would you like that?"

He nodded eagerly.

"Martha, take my wrap," Claudette ordered. "I would have stopped by earlier but that train ride was so exhausting and I wanted to freshen up at the hotel first," she began flamboyantly as Martha hung up her muff and shawl. "I'm so sorry, Michaela. How tragical. Were you able to salvage anything?"

"No. It's all gone," she murmured.

"Whatever will you do now? What's wrong with the baby? Where are her clothes?" Claudette demanded.

Michaela glanced at Eliza. "What do you mean? I just gave her a bath."

"Oh. Well, put her in something decent for heaven sake. Look how roley poly her legs are. Good gracious," Claudette said critically, following her over to the kitchen table.

Michaela laid the baby on a towel and rubbed some salve liberally between her legs. Eliza had always been prone to diaper rashes and had been through a few nasty ones in her short life. And she was just recovering from yet another one. A trace of redness and irritation marked her supple little bottom.

"Oh!" Claudette cried. "What's wrong with her?! It looks like measles! Quick, get your medical bag! I hope that didn't burn up, too."

"Don't worry, nothing's wrong. It's just a little rash. She's fine," Michaela said, bending down and kissing Eliza's forehead with a loving smile. "Yes. Mama's angel."

"Diapers. I'm so glad I'm done with all that unpleasantness. Well, we just couldn't decide between the duck or the fillet mignon. We fought for hours. Finally I let Martha choose and be done with it." She cleared her throat. "Michaela? Are you listening?"

Michaela pinned Eliza's diaper on one side and then the other. "Yes. What did she decide?"

"The duck," Martha called.

"Quack quack," Byron said.

"No, not duck," Katie protested.

"Yes, duck. And we're going to have these lovely puff pastries and escargot and lots and lots of caviar. We'll be swimming in caviar. And no dairy."

"I can't eat it," Katie vowed. "I can't eat the poor little duck, Auntie. I feel so bad for it."

"You will too eat it, Katherine Sully," Claudette retorted. "We're paying good money for it."

"Caviar?" Red Eagle echoed skeptically, turning up his nose. "What's that?"

"Sounds yucky," Byron said.

"Oh, and our cake. Three tiers. Breathtaking. Would you like to see the complete menu? I brought a copy." She opened her folder eagerly. "Michaela?"

"Cake, that sounds better," Byron said.

"I hope it's chocolate," Red Eagle said.

"It's lemon," Claudette said.

"Lemon!" both of the boys cried with dismay.

Michaela sighed, lifting the baby off the table. Leave it to Claudette to gloss over something as devastating as her clinic burning down. But at the same time, she had a feeling it might help to think about something else at the moment. And Claudette's wedding had become so elaborate and involved, it certainly was a big distraction from anything else happening.

"Yes, I'd love to see it," Michaela said. "Just let me breastfeed the baby for a little bit and she'll go right to sleep."

"Oh, Michaela, really. Must you say that word?" Claudette said, eyeing Eliza impatiently.

Michaela shared an amused glance with Martha and headed up the stairs with the baby.

Michaela paced on the station platform, carrying the baby and looking down the train tracks impatiently. Faye was waiting nearby with Danielle. No sign of Sully's train, now fifteen minutes past due.

"It's late," Michaela remarked edgily.

"The train's always late," Elizabeth remarked.

Michaela approached the counter where Horace was listening intently to his wire tap and writing down a telegram.

"Horace, any word about the Denver evening train? It's still not here."

He pointed at his telegraph. "Right now."

She waited anxiously while Horace finished writing down the telegram. "What is it? What's wrong?" she demanded.

"Train's not comin' today, Dr. Mike. Seems they had some engine trouble just outside the city. Train broke down on the tracks." He stood up.

."Oh, no. No one was hurt, were they?"

"No, it just stalled out it looks like."

Michaela closed her eyes and sighed. Of course she missed Sully anyway and really wanted him back as soon as possible. But what with her clinic just burned down and no way to get word to him about it, at least not very quickly, she needed him to come home more than ever. Of all days for the trainv to break down it had to be today.

Elizabeth came up behind her and put her arm around her. "There's nothing we can do now. He'll take the first train tomorrow morning."

Faye approached Michaela and gave her a reassuring hug. "They been gone so long already, what's one more day? Let's go over to the caf� and get some coffee."

Sully crouched down beside the bed and tenderly kissed Michaela's cheek a few times, then rubbed her arm.

She slowly roused and opened her eyes, disoriented. "Sully?"

"Don't get up," he whispered. "Just wanted to let ya know I'm home."

"Oh, Sully," she replied, removing her arms from beneath the covers and enveloping him in a tight embrace. "Oh."

He smiled and held her close. "Train broke down. Me and Kirk hitched a ride."

"Oh, I was hoping you would find another way home. I'm so glad you're here. Sully, my clinic, it.. " She trailed off.

He gazed at her with confusion. "Your clinic?"

"There was a fire. A terrible fire," she explained. "I wasn't there at the time. By the time I got there it was gone."

He shook his head. "I don't understand."

"The clinic's gone, Sully," she said unsteadily. "It burned to the ground two days ago. I lost everything."

"How did it start?" he blurted.

"No one knows," she replied. "But Jake insisted it had to be Harrington. He made Matthew arrest him."

"You still lettin' him spend time there? Thought we agreed ya weren't gonna do that anymore."

"Only when it was cold. But why would Harrington set a fire? We've all been so kind to him, and he's such a sweet man."

"We barely know him, Michaela," he murmured. "I told you it wasn't a good idea to let him stay there."

"Sully, it wasn't him," she replied. "I just know he wouldn't do that."

"He coulda left a lamp burnin', or a fire he left in the stove caused a spark."

"I don't know. I suppose. I still can't imagine it. Jake says he's going to stand trial just as soon as the circuit judge comes through."

He grasped her hand. "You all right?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I don't think it's all truly sunk in yet. Sully, what are we going to do? My entire practice. Everything I've worked for. We've worked for."

He held her to his chest and kissed her hair again and again. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

She held him tightly. "Shh, it's all right. I just don't know what we're going to do."

He wasn't sure what to say to reassure her. They certainly didn't have the money to rebuild the clinic themselves, and he wasn't sure they could even afford to get a loan and make payments over time, not that they were good candidates to be approved for that anyway. "One day at a time," he replied. "You can practice here at the homestead for now. We'll figure out everything else eventually."

"Sully, be careful," Michaela called from the porch nearby. "There's so much glass in there."

He got up, brushing his hands off and walking back to her.

"What do you think could have caused it?" Michaela asked quietly.

"I ain't sure." He took off his gloves. "Harrington's over at the jail?"

"Yes, but-"

"I wanna talk to him," he said, heading down the street.

"Sully, no," Michaela protested. "Not when you're angry."

"I ain't angry. I just wanna talk to him," he said as he walked briskly over to the jail, Michaela following close behind, and knocked on the door, opening it.

Matthew was at his desk writing something. "Sully, welcome back."

Sully shook his hand. "Matthew. Mind if I have a word with your prisoner?"

"Go ahead."

Sully walked over to the cell and clutched the bars, gazing inside. Harrington was sitting quietly on his cot.

"Harrington," he said. "We met awhile back. I'm Sully."

Harrington got to his feet. "Sully."

"What started that fire that burned down the clinic?" Sully asked.

He sighed, not answering.

"Did you start it?"

"I don't know how it happened," he replied quietly.

Sully studied him for a long moment. He could usually tell when people were being dishonest, but he was getting no such signal from Harrington. Either he was a very good liar, or perhaps he was telling the truth. Sully didn't know what to make of him.

"Were ya stayin' there when it happened?" Sully asked.

Harrington nodded. "Dr. Mike here, she was kind enough to-"

"You didn't see anything suspicious at all?"

He shook his head again.

Sully eyed him a moment longer and then walked to Matthew. "When'll the judge be here?"

"Not for awhile. The twenty-fifth. Afraid he can't post bond. He's gonna have to stay in there until then."

"Probably the safest place for him right now," Sully murmured. He grasped Michaela's hand. "Nothin' more we can do here. Ya wanna head home?"

She nodded gratefully. "Yes. Come by for supper when you can, Matthew."

"I will. See ya later, Dr. Mike," he replied.

"Here, sweetheart, hold it upright," Michaela said as she guided Katie's hand around Eliza's bottle. "Very good." Katie was holding her baby sister in one of the wingback chairs, thrilled to be trusted to feed her.

"Well, you must take my money," Elizabeth said insistently from her wheelchair. "Or what's left of it after Edward squandered it all."

Red Eagle and Byron came in from doing their afternoon chores and hung up their jackets and hats.

"Mother, we appreciate that," Michaela said. "But-"

"No buts!" Elizabeth cried. "I insist you take it. You can't let your pride stop you from building a new clinic!"

"It ain't pride, Elizabeth," Sully said. "Fact is, new clinic and new instruments are gonna cost a lot more than you got to give us right now. Wouldn't even begin to cover it."

"Oh," Elizabeth murmured. "I suppose that's true."

"Mother, we're thankful for what you can give us," Michaela said. "But it's just . it's not enough to rebuild my practice."

She sighed. "I suppose not. Well, at least it's a start."

"More I think about it, more I think we oughta talk to Preston about this," Sully began begrudgingly. "Maybe he might have some ideas."

Byron walked quietly into the room, coughing into his hand.

"You mean a loan?" Michaela murmured. "But you said we're never going to borrow from Preston again. Or anyone. He tried to take our homestead, remember?"

"This is different. We didn't know this was gonna happen. Sides, just as soon as we get your clinic up and runnin' again we can pay him off in no time."

"He won't approve us," she said softly.

"He will," Elizabeth spoke up. "And at least if you obtained a loan I'd be able to help you meet your payments."

"I'll help, too," Katie spoke up. "We'll all help."

Michaela put her arm around Katie and watched the baby finish off her bottle. Byron heaved another series of scratchy coughs, clutching a chair for balance.

"Sweetheart, is your asthma acting up again?" Michaela asked worriedly.

"No. A little," he choked.

"Let's do a treatment before supper," she said. "I'll put the kettle on the stove and get your stramonium."

"I'll get the kettle, Mama," Red Eagle offered.

"All right. Be careful," she replied as she rubbed Byron's back.

"He just had quite a severe attack the other day," Elizabeth spoke up, glancing at Sully.

Sully came over and smoothed back Byron's hair. "You all right, son?"

"I think it was from breathing in all that soot at the clinic. I shouldn't have brought him along," Michaela explained. She felt Byron's forehead. "And you were just in the barn, weren't you? You know what I'm thinking? I think you'd better stay out of the barn for now until your asthma improves."

"I think that's an excellent idea," Elizabeth added.

"But, Mama!" Byron protested immediately, breaking into another fit of coughs.

"I'm sorry. It'll only be for a little while. The hay irritates you. And the animals."

"No they don't. Not Flash, anyway. Who's gonna brush down Flash?"

"I'll take care of Flash," Sully said. "Don't worry, she'll be all right. Sure gonna wonder where you are though."

Byron sighed and hugged him sadly.

"I know ya love the animals. Just for a little while," Sully soothed, giving his head a gentle kiss. "Hey? I missed ya when I was in Wetmore. I tell ya that?"

"I missed you, Papa," Byron whispered.

"I ain't goin' away again for a long, long time," he vowed. "I promise."

"Thank you, son." He looked around the station. "Well? Where is she?"

Preston grabbed his luggage and loaded it into the boot of the buggy. "Claudette? She's at the hotel. I thought it would be best just I meet you. She'll join us for supper tonight."

"Oh, very well then." He climbed into the buggy with his cane. "I hope she's nothing like her sister that Dr. Quinn I met last time I was here. Those sort of women tend to run in families."

"Don't worry, she's nothing like her," Preston said, grabbing the reins and giving them a slap.

"That's a relief. Town certainly hasn't grown much," Preston the second said critically as they drove out to the road.

Preston glanced around. He thought the town was growing by leaps and bounds, and it was reflected in the surge in business at both the bank and his hotel. But it was never any use arguing anything with his Father.

"What of these children she has with her previous husband?" his father suddenly demanded.

Preston looked at him with surprise. "Mollie and William? What of them?"

"Mollie, that's an odd name. Irish, I suppose. Didn't you say they're both practically adults now? What about children of your own?"

"What do you mean? We're not going to have children of our own. I'm going to help her with Mollie and William. Take care of all of them."

"I can't pass on my fortune to some other man's children, Preston," his father scolded. "Wasn't he some kind of drunk? That runs in families, too, you know. No, I won't do it. Preston, all your brothers have carried on the Lodge name. I expected you would as well."

"Well, I suppose I thought so, too. But I never met just quite the right woman. Until Claudie--I mean, Claudette."

He raised an eyebrow. "A widow with two adult children is all kinds of trouble, Preston. I thought you would have known to steer well clear of that. Why don't you come back to Boston and I'll find you a nice young woman from a respectable family who can give you lots of sons to carry on our name and take over your bank someday? I always thought I'd have a little Preston the fourth on my knee eventually. Don't disappoint me, son."

Preston nearly rolled his eyes. "Father, please. I'm marrying Claudette."

"Catholic, too, hm?" he went on disapprovingly.

"The Quinns are Irish. They're all Catholics."

"The Quinns," he muttered. "How we ever became mixed up again with that family."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm warning you, Preston. It's a mistake marrying this woman. It's a mistake marrying into that family. You're a grown man and I'm not going to tell you I forbid it. But I'm warning you, you'll regret it."

"I highly doubt that, Father, I assure you," he said. Preston knew his father well enough not to take any of his ramblings seriously anymore, though he was worried how he was going to treat Claudette. He didn't know why, but he really wanted Claudette to like his father. He wanted both of them to get along, and that was starting to seem very unlikely. "Father, just wait until you see her. She's a sight to behold."

"Hm, I'm sure," he muttered.