For personal use and select distribution only © by Becky 2008

"Still don't know why you won't invest in the railroad, son," Preston senior said as they finished their coffee after a delicious three-course supper in a quiet corner of the hotel dining room.

"You know what investing did to Mrs. Quinn's portfolio," Preston replied.

"Mother lost nearly everything," Claudette added.

"Well, her investors just didn't know what they were doing, that's all." He finished his coffee and put down the cup. "It's getting late," he said. "I suppose it's time I retire."

"I'll see you up, Father," Preston said, pushing his chair back.

"Oh, no need. No need." He stood and grabbed his cane. "Have a pleasant evening."

"Goodnight, Father," Preston replied.

"Goodnight, Mr. Lodge," Claudette spoke up. She watched him leave the room and head up the main staircase. Finally she sighed. "He hates me."

"What? Of course he doesn't hate you," Preston protested.

"He ignored me the entire supper."

"He loved you. He's just, he's shy."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief and took a sip of coffee.

He reached across the table and held her hand. "I know Father. He wouldn't have come all the way out here if he didn't completely support the two of us starting our lives together."

She studied his face carefully. "You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

He grinned and kissed her hand. "Never."

She grinned back. "Well, I suppose I should retire as well."

"Shall I escort you up?" he said, putting his napkin on the table.

"No, you'd � you'd better not," she said.

"Oh, right," he replied.

She chuckled softly and bent to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight."

Michaela awoke at dawn and immediately headed to the crib. The covers were turned down and Eliza was gone. She smiled as she noticed the drawer where they kept her diaper cloths and other baby things half open. Sully had apparently gotten her up, changed her on his own and taken her downstairs while he let Michaela rest. She grabbed her bathrobe and put her feet in her slippers, then headed for the children's rooms.

"Byron, Katie, Red Eagle," she called. "Time to get up."

She peeked in Katie's room. Her bed was neatly made and the room was empty. Then she headed to the boys' room.

"Monkey?" she called. Their twin beds were also made and their room was as neat and tidy as she had ever seen it, without a stray toy or book or article of clothing in sight. Perplexed, she headed downstairs.

Martha was bustling about the kitchen as if it had been her home for years. The family was gathered at the breakfast table, eating French toast with jam and lots of hot scrambled eggs, sausages and coffee.

"Well, I thought you'd never come down and greet the morning," Elizabeth remarked cheerfully.

"Thought we'd let ya sleep. Ya had a tough couple of days," Sully said as he fed Eliza her mashed up cereal in her high chair.

"Martha made a delicious breakfast for us," Elizabeth added.

Michaela wasn't sure why she felt so offended by that, but she did her best to hide it. "Oh. Thank you," she murmured.

"Dearie," she replied kindly, dishing her up a plate of French toast and eggs.

Michaela rubbed Byron's back and kissed his cheek. "Good morning. How's your asthma? No coughing last night?"

"Good," Byron said, shoveling another syrupy bite of French toast into his mouth.

She took a seat beside him and automatically looked for his napkin to tuck in his collar, but Martha had already laid it in his lap. She had combed and greased the boys' hair as well, and braided Katie's hair into two neat pigtails, dressed the boys in matching outfits and Katie in a pretty pink pinafore, and buckled their shoes.

"I'm sorry I slept so long. I didn't mean to," Michaela said as Martha put her plate in front of her.

"Ya ain't missed much," Sully said with a smile.

"Just Eliza doing a big burp," Byron said with a giggle and Red Eagle and Katie joined him.

"Children, did you make your beds?" Michaela asked softly as she took a small bite of eggs. "They look exceptionally neat."

"Oh, I did that, miss," Martha said as she poured her a cup of coffee.

"Martha, you shouldn't have," she protested.

"Oh, no trouble. No trouble it all. I used to make six beds every morning back in my day!"

"Just the same, that's part of the children's chores every morning," Michaela said. "Children, in the future you make your own beds, all right?"

"But I like Martha to make mine," Katie said. "She makes it better."

"Yeah, she fluffs the pillows really good," Red Eagle added.

"It's really no trouble, miss," Martha added.

Michaela hesitated a long moment. "All right," she finally said. "Martha may make them. But only for the time being."

"Goodie," Byron said.

"Well, after breakfast Papa and I have to go into town and talk to Mr. Lodge, all right?" Michaela said. "Do you want to come? You could play in the meadow."

Byron shook his head vehemently. "No, boring."

"Boring," Red Eagle added.

"Afterward we could get some pie from Grace's?" Michaela added hopefully.

"Can't we stay here, Mama?" Katie asked pleadingly.

Michaela bit her lip. "All right. If that's what you want. You stay here with Martha and be on your best behavior."

"Yippie!" Byron cried. "Nanny Martha!"

Katie got up to hug Martha. "Can I help wash the dishes?"

"Certainly, dearie!" Martha said. "And then we'll bake some cinnamon bread for lunch!"

Preston silently looked through the portfolio of paperwork Michaela had given him as he sat at his desk.

"I know it's a lot," Michaela said as she sat beside Sully. "But realistically it's what I need. We need. Between rebuilding the clinic and replacing all my medical equipment � "

Preston didn't reply. He just kept looking at the paperwork and making a few calculations with his pencil.

"Well, your collateral would have to be the homestead. And the land the clinic was on," Preston finally said.

"The homestead and the land?" Sully said irritably.

"I've never given a loan like this to townsfolk. I would need something more."

"Fine. The homestead and the land," Sully muttered.

"And given what a risk you are, I'm afraid the interest rate would have to be rather high. Say fifteen to eighteen percent."

"Eighteen percent!" Sully echoed.

"You're welcome to visit the banks in Denver and try there. But I doubt they'll even consider you."

Sully glanced at Michaela. She looked like she was about to cry. For her sake he would have to just go along with Preston for now. If he didn't, they might never be able to rebuild her clinic.

"Where do I sign?" Sully murmured.

"Well, not just yet, Sully. I need some time to draw up the paperwork carefully. If you don't pay me back why I-"

"We're gonna pay ya back," he retorted.

"I'll take these documents you've provided and review them more carefully. But I don't see why we won't be able to make this work. Just give me some time to put it all together."

"Let's go," Sully said as he guided Michaela to her feet.

Preston got up. "Sully, Michaela, I'll make this happen for you. Just give me a few days."

"Thanks for your time," Sully replied quietly.

Sully put his arm around her reassuringly. They both brightened as they saw Cloud Dancing walking among the clinic debris, studying it all carefully.

"Cloud Dancin'," Sully called, increasing his pace. "Thought you were up north huntin' for a couple weeks."

He smiled and approached them. "I was. But then I heard there was a bad fire in Colorado Springs." He walked toward them, shook Sully's hand and hugged Michaela.

"I'm so glad you're here, Cloud Dancing. We both are," Michaela said. "You look well."

"The hunting went well," he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

"Good," she replied.

"Dr. Mike!" Grace called urgently, dragging Robert E. toward them.

"Grace, it's nothin'," Robert E. protested, clutching one hand in a towel.

"Dr. Mike, Robert E. bashed his thumb with a hammer," Grace explained.

Michaela pulled back the towel and examined him. It was swollen and he couldn't even move it. He winced as Michaela touched her fingers to it. "I'm afraid it might be broken Robert E." She glanced at the charred clinic. "Here, why don't we go over to Jake's? I can examine you there." She handed the portfolio to Sully. "I'll be back shortly. Cloud Dancing, I hope you can join us for supper."

He nodded and returned his attention to the clinic as Michaela headed down the street with Robert E. and Grace.

"Do you know how the fire started?" Cloud Dancing asked.

"We ain't sure. Michaela had a drifter stayin' here. He mighta left a lamp burnin'. Matthew arrested him."

"It wasn't a lamp," Cloud Dancing said firmly.

Sully eyed him a moment. "How do ya know?"

"I've seen many fires. Fires don't burn like this."

Sully eyed the wreckage. There were many areas that looked as if the flames had been extremely hot. In particular, several of Michaela's instruments had melted and distorted. Other areas seemed barely charred at all. "Guess it did burn kinda strange. Look at the hot spots."

"Fuel," Cloud Dancing murmured.

"Ya sayin' ya think somebody did this on purpose?"

He nodded.

"Who? Cloud Dancin', we can't be sure of that."

Cloud Dancing just looked back at him solemnly.

Sully glanced at the wreckage again. He had to admit it all looked very suspicious. "Cloud Dancing, I can't tell that to Michaela. She's upset enough as it is. She thinks somebody wanted her clinic to burn down � "

He slowly nodded in agreement. "Maybe this person will come forward."

Sully gave his shoulder a firm squeeze. "It's good to see ya. Glad ya came back."

Preston Sr. opened the bank door. He guided Claudette inside.

"I'll take care of him. Wait here," he instructed.

"Oh, good afternoon, Father," Preston said as he looked up from writing at his desk.

"You mean good evening. It's six o'clock. You said you were going to meet us at the caf� promptly at six, son."

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to finish this first."

"What is it?" he asked, scrutinizing the paperwork skeptically.

"Routine business. Just a loan."

"Oh. For whom?" his father asked.

Preston cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly. He wasn't generally supposed to discuss the financial business of his customers with others, but his father intimidated him. He wasn't keen on getting into a debate with him about the importance of confidentiality.

"Well, for Claudette's sister. The doctor. The one whose medical practice burned down," Preston explained quietly.

"Oh. I see." Preston Sr. tapped his chin for a long moment. "You're sure that's wise?"

"Wise?"

"Yes. Giving a loan to characters of that sort."

"You mean Sully? He may be a bit eccentric, but he's harmless."

"And you truly think these people are a good risk?"

"No, not at all. I've adjusted the interest rate accordingly." He turned the papers toward him.

Preston Sr. gave them a brief look. "Josef Quinn stepped into my office more than fifty years ago demanding my bank's backing and support to build his practice."

Claudette perked up at the mention of her father's name and stepped quietly closer to the men as they talked.

"And you didn't give it to him. I know that," Preston replied.

"What you don't know is what happened afterward. He spent the rest of his life tarnishing my reputation and goodwill. Telling all his friends and colleagues never to do any business with my bank. We lost dozens of potential clients because of him. He never forgave me for turning him down."

Claudette cleared her throat. "Pardon me, Mr. Lodge, but I believe you're mistaken. Father would never do such a thing. He was never one to hold a grudge."

"And what do you know about it, miss? You weren't even thought of yet," Preston Sr. snapped.

"Father, please," Preston said. "Don't bring her into this."

"Josef Quinn tried to ruin me, Preston," his father replied. "Don't do business with his daughter. Don't give her a dime of your money or you'll regret it."

Preston quietly gathered together the paperwork and put it away in a leather folder. "We'll discuss this later. Let's have supper now."

He offered Claudette his arm and she took it reluctantly. She gazed up at him for a long moment, then sighed as they followed Preston Sr. out of the bank.

Michaela rested her hands across her chest and gazed up at the ceiling quietly. Sully lay beside her equally as silent, just listening to the crickets chirp outside.

"We'll have to make a new budget," she whispered. "So we can be sure to make all our payments."

"Yeah. Sure," he said.

She glanced at him. "Sully, what's wrong?"

He swallowed hard. "Just � Cloud Dancin' �"

"What about Cloud Dancing? It sounds like he's doing very well at the moment. He seemed happy at supper. What is it?"

He glanced at her, decided against saying anything. Michaela didn't need to be burdened with the fact that her clinic burning down could very well have been arson. "Nothin'. He's doin' real well. Come 'ere." He gathered her in his arms and kissed her cheek. "Haven't seen much of each other since it happened. We both been so busy."

"Or sleeping," she whispered.

"Ya feel up to it?" he asked, lovingly stroking her back. "We don't have to if you're tired."

She smiled shyly. Sully was always so direct when she never could be. But sometimes, she appreciated it. "I'm not tired. I'm � I'm up to it."

"Good," he whispered with a smile, gathering her all the closer and giving her a deep kiss.

"Sully? Do you suppose with Mother helping us we could manage a big loan like that?"

Sully gently suckled on her lower lip. "Hey, remember our rule?"

"Rule? What rule?" she blurted.

"No talkin' about your ma when we're makin' love," he said wryly.

"Oh," she replied with a soft chuckle. "I forgot. I'm sorry."

"I forgive ya." He gave her another soft kiss. "We'll work out a budget tomorrow. Don't think about it right now. Just think about us."

"Us," she whispered, tilting her head back as he pressed his lips sensuously to her neck.

Sarah slowly roused in the early morning light to the sound of Brian rinsing off his razor in their basin. She took a deep breath and stretched her arms in the chilly morning air.

"Brian?" she whispered. "What're you doin' up so early?"

He glanced at her in the mirror as he wiped off his razor and put it away. "Gotta get the chores done and go into town to help Miss Dorothy."

"Now? It must be five in the morning."

"We're always busy day before the Gazette comes out. Even busier what with what happened to Ma's clinic and that drifter gonna stand trial soon."

"Oh. I guess you're right. I was hoping maybe I could cook you something special tonight. We could talk."

"Talk?" He picked up his comb and ran it quickly through his hair, slicking it back with a small amount of grease. "Talk about what?"

She shifted up a little higher in bed. "You know, about my ma movin' to Georgia. What that means for us. Everything."

He put his comb back in the drawer and slowly walked to the bed. "Not much to talk about. Like I said, we'll visit when we can."

"Brian," she protested.

He gave her cheek a gentle kiss. "I gotta get goin'."

"But what about supper? When will you be back?"

"I don't know. Late. Don�t wait up for me." He headed out the bedroom door and closed it behind him, avoiding her eyes the entire time.

Michaela stared at her notebook and made a few more calculations as she sat in the caf� with Sully. Their family budget was tight enough as it was. Even if they skimped and saved and cut every corner as much as they possibly could, she still didn't know how they could take on a big loan at the moment.

"What?" Sully murmured.

"Thirty dollars a month?" she replied. "I just don't know how we're going to do it."

He took a sip of coffee and pulled her notebook toward him, looking over the figures for a long moment. "I been thinkin'. I could build wheels again. Folks liked my work when I was doin' that. Brought in some decent money."

"But you hated it," she protested. "It made you miserable."

"No it didn't," he replied. "I didn't mind it."

"You were never that happy about being a wheelwright, Sully. I know you weren't."

"Michaela, listen, we're all gonna have to make some sacrifices here. I don't mind doin' wheelwrightin' for a little while if it means we can pay off this loan from Preston and start buildin' you a new clinic."

She gazed at him lovingly, eyes welling with tears. Sully had truly been her rock throughout the past few days. Just when things seemed hopeless he would always step up and take on more than she ever would have asked or expected of him. "Thank you, Sully."

"Michaela, seein' you be able to practice medicine again, that makes me happy," he said, reaching across the table and holding her hand. "I just wanna do what I can to make that happen."

"Thank you," she whispered again.

"Ya gonna eat your pie? You ain't touched it."

She glanced at the apple crumble slice of pie Grace had brought her. It looked delicious, but she just didn't have an appetite right now. "No. No, you can have it."

"Didn't eat much lunch either," he remarked a little worriedly.

She looked beyond Sully as she spotted Preston headed toward them resolutely, brow fixed.

"There's Preston now," she murmured.

Sully turned as he approached.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lodge," Michaela said. "We wanted to let you know, we're ready to sign the loan papers when you are."

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes, about your loan. I, uh, there's been a change. That is, after looking over your finances and talking with my investors, I just think you're too great of a risk for my bank to take on."

"You said you would just have to charge us more interest," Sully replied.

"But we can make the payments," Michaela said. "I can still practice medicine from my home. And Sully's going to be making wheels again. We'll get you your money every month on time."

"I have every confidence you would try to make the payments, of course," he said. "But unfortunately I must reject your application at this time."

Sully stood up impatiently. "What's this about? Who talked you out of this?"

Preston stared at him with surprise. He had never expected Sully to be that astute. "No one," he stammered. "No one, Sully. You're too much of a risk, that's all. I'm sorry." He abruptly turned around and headed quickly out of the caf�.

"What on earth?" Michaela said, shock all across her face. "But he was all for giving us a loan two days ago."

"Somethin' happened," Sully murmured, sitting back down. "Somebody talked him out of this."

"What makes you say that?"

"Why else would he change his mind?"

"I don't know. People change their minds. Perhaps he truly doesn't believe we'll be able to pay it off."

He sighed and took a sip of coffee. "Maybe we oughta wire the banks in Denver, Manitou."

"They're only going to turn us down. Or charge us so much interest we'll be paying it off the rest of our lives. Preston was our only chance at a loan we could afford." She swallowed hard. "What are we going to do? We can't rebuild without that money."

"We may have to hold off on rebuildin' for now," he said. "Until we can save up some first. Meantime, the homestead'll be your clinic. Your patients can come there."

She tried to be optimistic just as he was. But she didn't see how she and Sully could ever afford by themselves to rebuild her clinic, at least not anywhere near the way it used to be.

"Yes. You're right," she whispered unsteadily.

"Maybe it would help the two of us go to Denver, sit down with the bankers there in person," Sully suggested as he pulled the wagon up to the homestead.

"How can we possibly afford a trip to Denver right now?" Michaela replied.

"Maybe we don't gotta take the train. I could drive us."

"I'm not going to spend two days on a dusty road in the hot sun, Sully," she retorted, climbing down from the wagon on her own and heading up the stairs.

He followed her inside where Elizabeth was working on her needlepoint at the table.

"All right. Maybe just you could go," he said. "We could scrape together the money somehow."

She hung up her jacket and put her medical bag on the table. "Banks don't give loans to married women, remember? They'll only give them to my husband."

He sighed. "That ain't my fault. Why you takin' this out on me?"

"I'm not!" she retorted defensively.

Elizabeth cleared her throat awkwardly. "Good afternoon."

"Mother. Where are the children?" Michaela replied, glancing around impatiently.

"Oh, Martha took them for a walk a few hours ago," Elizabeth said. "I believe they went down to the creek to wade."

Sully hung up his jacket beside Michaela's. "Preston turned down our loan," he said quietly.

"What?!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "But why?"

"He says we're not a good risk, that's all," Michaela said. "And he's right."

"That's absurd. Of course you are. Well, you must try other banks, then."

"It's useless, Mother," Michaela said.

"What are you sayin'? You're just gonna give up?" Sully asked.

"No, I'm not giving up," she said. "I'm being realistic."

"Maybe a part of ya is scared to rebuild your medical practice," Sully said. "Maybe scared it's ain't ever gonna be the same."

"Don't be ridiculous!" she exclaimed. "Don't you think I wish we had the money to do this? But we don't. We never have."

He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe I could hold down a decent job, support our family a little better, we wouldn't have this problem."

"Stop it. I never said that."

The children suddenly bounded into the room from the back door, sweaty and muddy from a day of play. Martha came in cheerfully after them, holding a bright-eyed Eliza.

"Mama!" Katie cried, running to her. "Nanny Martha took us to the creek and we saw this big bull frog and we almost caught a fish with our hands!"

"And it was freezing!" Byron added. "Brr!"

Michaela hugged them. "I missed you. You had a good day?"

Red Eagle pulled out a garter snake from his pocket, holding it up proudly. "Look what I found under a big rock!"

Michaela screeched. "Red Eagle! Put that outside right now!"

The children giggled and he trooped outside to let it go.

Michaela glanced at Martha with a hint of impatience and took the baby from her, kissing her. "Martha, could you please make sure the children are here when I arrive home? I barely see them as it is."

Martha stared at her in confusion for a long moment. "Yes, miss," she finally said. "Of course."

"Mama, Nanny Martha said we could bake cookies after supper. Can we?" Katie asked, tugging on her skirt.

"We already picked out the recipe," Red Eagle added as he came back inside.

"No, it's time for Nanny Martha to go home now. You can bake cookies another time."

"Aww," Byron protested.

"I need to get back to the hotel and see if your Auntie Claudette needs anything anyway," Martha spoke up as she gathered her cape from the hook. "Goodbye, children."

The children ran to her and hugged her tightly.

"Bye, Martha," Byron said. "Thank you."

She smiled. "You're welcome, dearie."

Katie kissed her cheek. "You're the bestest nanny."

She smiled softly and then pulled away from the children and hurried to the door.

"Thank you, Martha," Sully called.

"Thank you," Michaela echoed softly.

She nodded awkwardly and shut the door after her.

"God bless Red Eagle and Katie and Eliza. And Mr. Bray. Oh, and extra God bless Nanny Martha!" Byron said as he finished his nighttime prayer. "Amen."

Michaela opened her eyes, seated on his bed. "Amen."

"Amen," Red Eagle said. "Mama? How come we never had a nanny before?"

"I don't know. I suppose I never really thought we needed one," Michaela explained. "This was all your Auntie Claudette's idea."

"Good idea. Hey, Ma? Do you know Martha can even play second base? We taught her," Byron said.

"She's not bad," Red Eagle said. "She caught on fast."

"That was nice of you," Michaela murmured.

"She knows all these tricks for spelling," Byron said. "One was � what was it?" He glanced at his brother for help.

"I before e except-" Red Eagle began.

"I'll tell it," Byron interrupted. "I before e except after c. Did you learn that trick when you were little? Did you, Ma?"

"Did Martha teach you?" Red Eagle asked. "Mama?"

Michaela was growing very tired of hearing about Martha all the time, though she would never let on to the boys. "I think so. I don't remember. It's late. Time for bed. School tomorrow."

Byron held out his arms and hugged her. "Who's driving us to school?"

"Martha will," she murmured. "Mama has to go on some house calls quite far out of town."

"No. No," Byron whined. "I want you. I want you. Please, Ma?"

Michaela felt instantly better to hear he wanted her to drive him, although the truth was she really wanted to get an early start on those house calls tomorrow. She felt a pang of guilt that she might very well have to leave the children to spend the day once again with Martha. It was no wonder the children talked about the nanny so much, given they spent practically all their time with her as of late. "We'll see. Goodnight."

"I want you," Byron protested. "You drive me. Mommy."

"Shh. Hush. I'll try."

"Goodie. Night-night. I love you."

She kissed him. "I love you." She got up and hugged Red Eagle. "Goodnight. I love you."

"Love you," he replied.

"Sweet dreams." Michaela headed out of the room, leaving their door open a crack, and headed downstairs.

Elizabeth was waiting in her wheelchair at the kitchen table. Sully stood beside her looking rather apprehensive.

"What is it?" Michaela asked skeptically.

Elizabeth laid a pair of yellow train tickets on the table as well as about forty dollars in cash. "Two tickets for tomorrow morning's train to Denver. It leaves at eight o'clock."

"Denver? What for?"

"To talk to the banks of course," Elizabeth explained. "Secure a loan."

"Oh, Mother," Michaela said, shaking her head disapprovingly.

"I think we should go," Sully spoke up.

"I told you it's useless," she protested. "If Preston won't give us a loan what makes you think they will?"

"We gotta try," Sully said.

"What other plan do you have exactly?" Elizabeth said. "Besides, you won't know until you ask. Michaela, go. Please."

"I told the boys I would try to drive them to school tomorrow," she protested.

"Fiddlesticks, Martha can drive them. No more excuses. You're going."

Michaela sighed and glanced at Sully. He nodded at her encouragingly. "All right, I suppose it's worth a try."

Elizabeth beamed. "Just you wait, Michaela. You'll see. You'll get your loan."

The banker peered at Michaela and Sully's loan application skeptically across his vast mahogany desk, his spectacles lowered on his long nose.

Sully shifted in his plush leather chair uncomfortably and resisted the urge to scratch his neck where Michaela had tied his tie that morning.

"Michaela Quinn and Byron Sully," the banker finally said, glancing up awkwardly. "Are you � are the two of you, that is, are you married?"

Michaela glanced at Sully with surprise. "Yes, of course." She cleared her throat. "Oh. I didn't change my name when we married."

"Oh. I see." The banker looked enormously relieved. "Three minor children in the household?"

"Yes. Well, actually four," Michaela explained.

"Four?" he replied, making a few notes on their application.

"Yes, we have a new baby," Michaela explained. "Does she count?"

"She counts," he replied a little impatiently. "And exactly what is your profession, Mr. Sully?"

Sully leaned forward, clearing his throat. "I, uh, I make wheels. I'm a wheelwright. Sometimes I do other carpentry, too."

"Annual income?"

"Annual income?"

"A rough estimate please."

Sully looked to Michaela for help. "It depends."

"He just recently started this line of work," Michaela said.

"Oh? What were you in before?"

"He was working for the government," Michaela said.

"I was an Indian Agent," Sully said.

"I see. And your reason for leaving that job?"

"I got fired," Sully said.

"Well, you see he was laid off," Michaela explained.

"Laid off," Sully echoed uncomfortably.

"We can provide you with references," Michaela said. "I just need to send a wire back home."

"Mrs. Sully � I mean, Mrs. Quinn. That is to say, ma'am, let me be frank with you. We simply don't give loans to people of your sort."

"Our sort?" Sully spoke up defensively.

"No discernable income, limited collateral, four children to provide for. You're an unbelievable gamble."

"We've paid off a loan before," Michaela protested. "We can do this."

"Perhaps if you could demonstrate a profit over a course of time. Or perhaps if you didn't have such a big family," the banker said fleetingly.

"So you're sayin' we should come back when we don't got so many kids?" Sully muttered angrily, standing up and grasping Michaela's arm. "Come on. We're leavin'."

"Please understand. It's just bank policy," he said, standing up.

"We'll see ourselves out," Sully retorted, heading to the door briskly.

Claudette was sitting at the kitchen table with her pen and a notebook, meticulously going over the wedding plans. "Preston thinks carnations would be better."

"Carnations!" Elizabeth cried. "Oh, no, no. Carnations are atrocious. Aren't they, Martha? Not for a wedding anyway."

Martha was sitting beside her feeding the baby her mashed up lunch, delighting in Eliza's little smiles and giggles and genuinely enjoying her new role as the baby's nanny. "Yes, mum," she said obediently.

"Well, Mother, this wedding is getting expensive even for us," Claudette explained. "We would like a little left over so we can have a proper honeymoon in Europe next summer. Preston thinks carnations would save us a little money."

"Stingy," Elizabeth griped. "He's a banker, they all are."

"Preston? Don't be ridiculous," Claudette said with a chuckle.

"He turned down your sister's loan, did you know that?" Elizabeth retorted impatiently. "Doesn't he have a heart? For God sake her clinic just burned down." She shook her head. "I don't know what he was thinking. How could he do this?"

Claudette cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, it wasn't exactly him. That is, not in so many ways."

"You know about this?" Elizabeth demanded.

Claudette made another few notes with her pen. "No, not really."

"Tell me what you know, Claudette! Out with it!" Elizabeth ordered.

"Well, Preston's father found out about it. He remembers turning down Father's loan for his medical practice years ago. He claims Father nearly blacklisted him for it."

"What on earth? I've never heard something so ludicrous. Josef had a temper, I'll grant you that, and he was quite upset about being declined. But he just went to a different bank and was promptly approved."

"Well, that's what I said. But that's not how Preston the second remembers it."

"How preposterous."

"I know, but Preston adores his father. He so wants his approval, I can tell. I'm afraid he felt caught between a rock and a hard place with this loan."

"So Preston turned down the loan because of his father? That's absurd!" Elizabeth cried. "I'm going out there right now. Where is he? At the bank or the hotel?"

Claudette put down her pen. "Mother, please don't. This isn't your concern and it's not mine either. I shouldn't have told you any of this."

"Yes you should. I have a right to know. After all, I gave Michaela the money to start that clinic in the first place. It was my investment that burned down."

"Well, I can think of better ways to invest your money anyway," Claudette said with a slight roll of her eyes. "That piddly little medical practice never brought in more than a few dollars of profit for Michaela. She'd never be able to pay off a loan even if Preston did give her one. He'd be forced to foreclose and then where would she be?" She sighed. "Yes, the way I see it Preston is really doing her a favor not giving them that loan. Isn't that right, Martha?"

"Yes, mum," Martha said automatically.

"You must talk to him," Elizabeth said. "Convince him to change his mind. You must! Right, Martha?"

"Yes, mum," Martha said.

Claudette heaved another sigh. "Don't do this to me, Mother."

"What do you expect Michaela to do? How will she go on?"

"Mother, I feel terrible about what happened to her little office. I do. But I feel caught in the middle. He's my future husband. He has to do what he feels is best and I have to support him."

"And what about your sister?" Elizabeth replied. "Doesn't she mean anything to you?" She glanced at Eliza. "What about this family she and Sully are trying to raise, your nieces and nephews? Don't they mean anything?"

"Of course they do." She glanced at the baby. Eliza brightened and pointed at her, bursting into a wide smile much like her mother's. "Oh, for heaven's sake," Claudette muttered. "All right, I'll talk to him. Just talk. No promises!"

Elizabeth beamed and grasped her hand. "Oh, good!"

Michaela suspected it was partly Sully being so angry at how callous and inflexible everyone was to them at the various banks in Denver, and partly the fact that they hadn't been away from Colorado Springs alone together since before Eliza was born. But he made love to her as intensely as he ever had before. In the privacy of their small but cozy hotel room, he lighted a nice fire for them and then fervently stripped off her traveling gown, stockings and undergarments. He quickly shed himself of his uncomfortable tie, suit and pressed shirt with Michaela's help. Then he laid her atop their bedcovers, holding her wrists down with his hands, and kissed her face, neck and breasts again and again as he joined them together in a rapid, passionate rhythm.

Finally he fell to his side and weakly clutched Michaela's hand as he tried to catch his breath.

Quite winded herself, Michaela glanced at him somewhat self-consciously. She felt sweaty and a little overheated, but she just wanted to be close to her husband right now. "Are you all right?" she whispered. "Sully?"

"Yeah. You?" he whispered back.

"Yes. I think so."

He smiled and shifted toward her to weakly kiss her. Then he drew her to his chest and held her there for a long moment, just resting and gently stroking her hair.

"Michaela?" he murmured at last.

"Hm?" she replied, lazily caressing his chest.

"Forget the banks."

"Forget them?"

"Yeah, we'll do it ourselves. We don't need some big city banker's help."

"How will we do it ourselves?" she said uncertainly.

He blinked a moment, clearly not having thought this all through. "I ain't sure. We save."

"We'll be saving forever, Sully."

"Not if we're determined enough. I know I am."

She stroked his ribs, reassured. "If you are, then I am, too."

He smiled. "Good. Get some sleep. We got a train to catch tomorrow mornin'."

"I can't wait to be home," she said with a sigh of relief.

Preston wrapped his arm lovingly around Claudette in the chilly night air and kissed her. He had brought the buggy out to Waldo Canyon lookout, their favorite place, for a little time alone with her. And he had been ignoring the troubled look on Claudette's face all night.

"Our wedding day can't come soon enough," he said.

"Preston?" she replied, gently pushing on his chest.

"Yes?"

"About this loan for Michaela and Sully."

He sighed. "Let's not talk about it. You don't need to worry."

"Well, she is my sister. I'm supposed to be a little worried."

"I realize that. But I can't give a loan to people like them. I just can't do it."

"Are you refusing to give them a loan because you can't, or because your father told you not to?"

He glared at her. "It's not your concern, Claudette. You know, I've been thinking lately about redecorating. Getting rid of the furniture and redoing the wallpaper at the hotel."

"Oh, really? That wallpaper is ghastly."

"Yes, I know." He held her hand. "Perhaps you could help me. You have such good taste."

She smiled. A little flattery was plenty enough to make her forget about anything else on her mind. "You think so? I try. I decorated my townhouse in Boston all by myself you know. I would get rid of everything and start over if I were you. Mahogany. The entire hotel in dark mahogany. It'll be gorgeous."

"We could look through the catalogues together, look at swatches. It would be a fun project to do together."

"Fun." She beamed. "Yes. Yes, it would. When do we start?"

"No, not yet, dearie," Martha said as she washed the table after breakfast. "They're not due in for another hour. Be patient, yes?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"There's a good girl."

Elizabeth lifted the baby out of her highchair and sat her on her lap, removing her bib. "She loves your cooking, Martha. She ate a wonderful breakfast."

Martha smiled and caressed the baby's head.

"I wish we could build a new clinic for Mama," Red Eagle said quietly as he entered the kitchen with Byron.

"Why do the Denver bankers have to do it?" Byron asked. "Papa can do it himself." He covered his mouth and coughed hard.

"No, dearie. The banker just gives them money to rebuild. It's called a loan," Martha explained.

"Oh. Like a present?" He coughed again and Katie came over and gently patted his back.

"No, not exactly. You must pay them back, and at an interest."

"Interest?" Katie echoed.

"What if you don't pay them back?" Byron whispered with yet another cough.

"Oh. Well, they will," Martha said.

"They will," Elizabeth added.

"They take your house if you don't pay them back," Red Eagle said fearfully. "You have to live on the street just like Harrington."

"They even take your kids," Katie added tearfully.

"No, no, of course not. Where did you hear such a thing?" Elizabeth admonished.

Byron suddenly gasped for breath and hunched over, fighting for air.

Elizabeth's eyes widened with alarm. "His asthma." She glanced at Martha. "Hurry, his medicine, chloroform. It's in the drawer. Hurry, Martha."

"Martha," Byron gasped.

"Stay calm, dearie," Martha said as she rushed across the room. "You'll be fine."

Michaela stepped down from the train platform. Much to her surprise, no one was there to meet them.

"Where are the children?" Michaela said, looking around worriedly. "I thought Martha was going to bring them to the station to meet us."

Sully stepped to the platform after her. "We're a little early."

"Not that early," she protested.

"Sure they're fine. Maybe Martha just forgot."

"Martha never forgets. How are we going to get home?"

"We'll borrow a wagon from Robert E." He touched her shoulder. "Wait here. I'll get our luggage."

"Byron!" she called frantically, quickly getting down from the wagon.

"He's all right," Martha called.

Michaela gathered her skirts and hurried up to the porch, Sully a few steps behind her. "What happened?"

"He had one of his spells," Martha explained. "About an hour ago. We've been out here since. Fresh air and patting his back seems to help."

"It helps," Byron echoed.

Michaela smoothed his hair worriedly. "Were you in the barn? Martha, did you let him in the barn? He can't be in there."

"No, Mama. Well, just to pet Flash once," Byron said.

"Martha," Michaela said impatiently.

"I'm sorry, miss. I didn't know."

"Nanny Martha gave me my chloroform, Mama," Byron explained. "And it went away."

She kissed his head. "Good."

"How was Denver?" Martha asked. "The bankers there, they'll help you, won't they?"

Michaela discreetly shook her head. "Let's get you inside, sweetheart, and do your treatment."

"I'm glad you're home, Mama," he said as Martha stepped back and let Michaela take over.

Michaela held him close. "So are we."

"If it helps 'im, that's what we'll do," Sully said from his side of the bed. "We can take turns."

"Yes." She tucked her slippers under the bed and climbed in beside him.

"Long day," Sully remarked.

"Mm." She drew the covers up around her. "Sully?"

"Yeah?"

"It crossed my mind tonight. This disease, it's nothing to take lightly. The day might come where it could even � it could kill him. We've had close calls before."

He looked at her with a start. "Michaela, don't say that. He's gonna be fine. He'll outgrow it."

"Asthmatics die all the time from an attack they couldn't get under control. Children are especially susceptible. I suppose I never let myself think how serious his condition could be. I never wanted to face it."

"We're doin' all we can for him," Sully said, clutching her arm. "He's gettin' the best treatments, the best care."

"Then why is it getting worse?" she demanded.

"I don't know. Nobody does. We just gotta keep tryin' to get it under control. We will. I promise."

"All I'm saying is we need to take his asthma very seriously. Especially now that he's been getting so many bad attacks."

He drew her into his arms. "We always have. And we'll be even more careful now."

Her eyes welled with tears. "I just wish I knew why this is happening to him."

He kissed her head. "I know. I do, too."

"I wish I could take it away," she added. "He thinks I can do anything. But I can't make him better. I can't cure him."

"They say things like this make ya stronger. I think that's true. I think havin' asthma's just shown him how tough he can be. How determined."

"You know, he didn't complain once tonight?" she said with a soft smile. "He just did his treatments and let us pat his back and was telling us jokes and stories and making Mother and I laugh the entire time. I just couldn't be upset if he wasn't. He certainly is a tough little man."

"He's our son. What do ya expect?" he replied, giving her another kiss and drawing her all the closer.

"Any contractions?" Michaela asked as she listened to Faye's belly with her stethoscope. Faye was reclined on the dining room table, her head propped up on a pillow and Kirk standing beside her dotingly with Danielle.

"Just a few little ones," Faye replied. "I do get some powerful sharp pains in my legs sometimes though."

"Hurts her real bad," Kirk added with concern.

"That's normal. The baby's pressing on a lot of nerves right now. You could try a warm compress if it happens again."

Eliza began fussing from her cradle in the sitting room, awake from her nap.

"Martha?" Michaela called as she packed away her stethoscope. She took a step toward the stairwell and glanced up it. "Martha?"

The baby let out a big cry, kicking her legs in the air.

"Oh, you can go get her, Dr. Mike," Faye said. "It's all right."

"I'm sorry, I don't know where my nanny is. I think she may have taken the children for a walk," she said as she crossed the room to the cradle. She picked up Eliza and rubbed her back. "Oh, what is it, sweetheart? Did you wake up?"

"Must be grand havin' a nanny," Faye said whimsically. "Just like all the rich folk back East."

Michaela returned to the table, kissing the baby's head. "She's very helpful," she said quietly.

"Hey, Eliza," Faye said with a grin. "Ya want somebody new to play with? Maybe Auntie Faye can help with that."

Kirk tickled the baby's cheek and Eliza burst into giggles. "Oh, there's that sweet smile. She's a beauty, Dr. Mike."

Michaela helped Faye sit up. "Well, you're a few days overdue. Start timing your contractions the next time you have them. But as long as you and the baby are healthy there's no reason not to give labor a chance to start on its own."

"I can't wait. I'm ready for this to be over," she said wryly as Kirk wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.

"Faye, there's actually something important I need to talk to the two of you about before you leave," Michaela said tentatively.

"Oh? Sure, Dr. Mike."

"What is it? The baby's all right, ain't he?" Kirk asked nervously.

"Oh, yes. It's nothing like that. It's just, as you know I don't have a proper medical facility anymore. I don't even have most of my instruments. I'm certainly not equipped whatsoever to perform a cesarean section, an operation to deliver the baby. If it came down to it."

"I need an operation?" Faye blurted in horror.

"Oh, no. No, I doubt that's going to be necessary. Nonetheless, I just, I think it would be better if Andrew delivered your baby at his clinic."

Faye looked absolutely floored. "Dr. Cook? No, I don't want Dr. Cook. I want you." She swallowed. "I mean, not that he's not a real nice man. It's just, you've always been my doctor." She glanced at her red-headed toddler. "You delivered Danielle. Saved her life. Why wouldn't you want to deliver this baby, too?"

"Faye, it's not that I don't want to. But I have no clinic anymore to deliver your baby in. I have no place for you to go."

"We'll have the baby at home then," Faye said, glancing at her husband. "Right, Kirk?"

"Yeah, sure. You can come out to our place when the time comes, Dr. Mike."

Michaela rubbed Eliza's back as she continued to fuss. "Faye, I just think I should turn your medical records over to Andrew and he be your obstetrician for this pregnancy. It doesn't mean I won't still be your family doctor. It's just this one time."

"But you had Eliza at home. Why can't I?"

She glanced at the baby. "Well, yes. That's different."

"How?" Kirk asked.

She hesitated. "Well, that was something Sully and I put a great deal of thought and planning into. It's not something you do on a whim if you can help it. And it's not what I would recommend for everyone. I've had relatively normal deliveries in the past. I had no reason to believe anything would go wrong. Especially given your history of complications, losing two pregnancies, and the fact that Danielle was breech, I think it's best you go to a hospital."

"Not if it means you won't deliver my baby," Faye said resolutely. "We can get prepared at home. We'll do everything you say. Just please, don't give up on us." Tears welled in her eyes. "Please, Dr. Mike. We don't want nobody else but you."

"You're the only doctor for us," Kirk added in support, holding Faye's hand tightly.

Michaela was touched by how adamant they were she remain their doctor. She couldn't turn Faye over to Andrew when she was this upset. "You're certain about this? You have to understand if anything goes wrong we'll be forced to take you to Dr. Cook's whether it's what you wanted or not."

"I understand," Faye said.

Michaela sighed. "All right. I'll come to your home for the delivery if that's what you truly want."

Faye clutched her hand. "Oh, good. Oh, thank you."

"You can't get rid of us that easy, Dr. Mike," Kirk said with a smile.

"I appreciate that you have such faith in me," she murmured. "I don't know why most of my patients keep coming back. I have nothing to offer them right now."

"Oh, Dr. Mike, that ain't true," Faye admonished. "So the building you worked in burned down. But that don't mean you're not still as good a doctor as ever."

"That's right," Kirk added. "Gonna help us have a healthy baby boy."

She smiled and put her arm around him gently. "I can't promise a boy. But healthy baby, I'll do my best."

Kirk gave her head a sweet kiss. "Don't you worry, Dr. Mike. You're gonna have your medical practice back the way it used to be. One day at a time."

"Just don't see how he could turn ya down," Brian said as he ate a big bite of pie.

"Neither do I," Elizabeth added. Byron was sitting tiredly on her lap, coughing every so often and not all that interested in finishing his pie.

"What will you do now?" Sarah asked.

Michaela glanced at Sully. "We don't know."

"We save up," Sully replied. "Banks don't wanna give us a loan, we'll just have to come up with the money ourselves."

"You can have my butter and egg money," Sarah offered. "It's not much, but it's a start."

"Yeah, and we'll do chores around town, Mama," Katie spoke up.

"Yeah," Red Eagle added.

"Oh, that's so kind of you," Michaela said. "You've all been so supportive. I appreciate it so much." She glanced at Byron as he coughed again. "Let's not talk about the clinic anymore," she said, standing up to get her medical bag. "Anything new with you two?"

Brian and Sarah exchanged a glance.

"Well, now that you say so," Sarah began.

"Sarah, not now," Brian murmured.

"Better now than later," she replied. "My ma's gonna move back to Georgia. In a couple weeks."

"Move back?" Michaela said with surprise. "Oh, I had no idea she was thinking about that." She walked over to Byron, filled a spoon with a dark liquid and held it to his lips. "Here, sweetheart. Cough medicine." He opened his mouth and swallowed it down obediently.

"Her hands have really been hurting her," Sarah explained.

She corked the medicine bottle and put it back in her bag. "Oh. Well, I always said a warmer climate would be better on her. But it's so far away from you two."

"She wants us to go with her," Sarah added bravely.

Michaela slowly took her seat. "Oh? Oh." She glanced at Sully.

"You thinkin' of movin' back East?" Sully asked.

"No, Pa. Not really," Brian said.

"We haven't ruled it out," Sarah said.

Brian glanced at her. "We haven't?"

"We're all my ma's got," Sarah said. "I feel just terrible sending her back to Georgia all by herself."

"She won't be by herself. She's gonna stay with your aunt and uncle," Brian said.

"Don't move away, Brian," Katie pleaded, hugging his arm. "We'd miss you so much."

He put his arm around her. "Don't worry, Kate. I ain't goin' nowhere."

"Children, it's getting late," Michaela spoke up. "You should go get in your nightclothes and get in bed."

The children slowly got up from the table.

"We'd better head home, too," Brian said, standing and putting his napkin on the table. He kissed his mother's cheek. "Thanks for supper."

"You're welcome," she said as Brian took down his jacket and handed Sarah her shawl and purse.

"Bye," Sarah whispered as they headed out the door.

"What did you mean at supper?" Brian asked as he pulled the team up to their small homestead.

"About what?" Sarah replied innocently, hands in her lap.

"Us not rulin' it out. Movin' to Georgia."

"Well, it's true. We haven't. At least I haven't."

"Sarah, we can't move there. Are you crazy?"

She regarded him impatiently. "No, I'm not crazy. I just want my ma to feel better. Is that a crime?"

He led the wagon up to their porch and pulled back on the reins. "Sarah, listen, I know you care a lot about your ma. I know she's the only family ya got around here, besides me. But I promise you we'll do all we can to visit her as much as we can. Maybe even spend Christmas out there some years, if we save up."

"It's not the same. Mama and I never spent a day apart since Daddy died. She's my best friend. You don't understand. You've always had such a big family."

"I don't understand," he muttered, climbing down from the wagon. "Yeah, that's it. I lost a pa, too, ya know. And a ma."

"Brian-"

"Sarah, my whole life is here!" he replied.

"My whole life was in Georgia," she retorted. "That is until my daddy got murdered, we lost our house and all our nice things to his creditors and we had to pack up what little we had left and move all the way out to the middle of nowhere. Do you know how frightening that was?"

He sighed and raised his arms up to lift her down to the ground.

"You could have a career out there, Brian," she went on. "There's so much happening back East. You could write for the Atlanta Intelligencer. It's the biggest paper around."

"City life?" he murmured. "Sarah, that's never gonna be for me. And what about our family? The children we wanna have someday? I wanna raise 'em here, where I grew up. Near the rest of my family."

"I guess that settles it. Your family is more important than what's left of mine."

"Sarah, I ain't sayin' that. Come on."

She walked up the porch and opened the door. "I want to go back, Brian," she said tearfully. "I can't leave my ma. I can't just leave her like this."

"Way I see it, she's leavin' you," he replied quietly.

She turned away emotively and shut the door. Brian crossed his arms in frustration and breathed in the cool night air, desperately trying to collect his thoughts.

"Look what a good eater she is," Elizabeth said proudly as she shoveled some more mashed up peaches onto a spoon and fed it to Eliza in her highchair.

"Claudette keeps saying she's chubby," Michaela remarked where she was putting some coffee on the stove.

"Oh, nonsense. She's a baby, she's supposed to be a little chubby," Elizabeth said with a chuckle.

"Was I like that, Mama?" Katie asked with a giggle as she gazed at her baby sister and set the table for breakfast.

"I don't know. If I remember you all had rather chubby cheeks," Michaela said with a smile. "They were very good for kisses." She walked over to her and gave her a kiss on her cheek to more giggles from Katie.

Sully walked inside carrying the milk bucket. "Mornin'."

"Mornin', Papa," Katie called. "Mama said I had chubby cheeks when I was little."

He smiled and put the milk bucket on the counter. "That ya did."

"It's just Claudette's worried the baby's too chubby," Michaela spoke up.

"What makes your sister an expert on chubby babies?" Sully replied. "I think she's perfect. Just like her ma." He gave her a kiss.

"What does that mean?" Michaela replied incredulously. "You mean I'm chubby, too?"

He cleared his throat. "No, I-"

"Mama!" Red Eagle suddenly cried from the stairwell. "It's Byron! He can't breathe!"

Michaela looked at Sully frantically and they both immediately headed to the stairs, Michaela grabbing her medical bag off the mantle on the way. Byron was sitting up in bed in his nightshift, red-faced, coughing and wheezing violently.

"It's all right, sweetheart," Michaela said, tearing open her medical bag and grabbing her bottle of chloroform. "I'm getting your medicine. Mama's getting your medicine."

Red Eagle held his hand and Sully sat beside him and put his arm around him.

Michaela held a cloth of chloroform over his mouth and nose. "Short breaths. Short breaths. Little breaths."

"Short breaths," Sully echoed, holding his arms in the air. "It's all right, son. It's all right."

For an agonizing minute Byron wheezed into the cloth until finally his air passages relaxed and he began to breathe more normally. Michaela took the cloth away and rubbed his back soothingly. "There you are. Breathe, sweetheart. My darling. Are you all right?"

Byron hugged Michaela tearfully, burying his face against her shoulder.

Michaela rocked him and looked at Sully helplessly.

"You're all right now, son. You're all right," Sully whispered.

"What happened?" Michaela asked.

"I just woke up and couldn�t breathe," Byron whispered. "I woke up and couldn't breathe."

"Asthma attacks are more common at night," Michaela said reassuringly. "It's normal to wake up and have trouble breathing."

"I was scared," Red Eagle admitted quietly. "He turned all red."

Michaela kissed Byron's head lovingly. "How do you feel now?"

"Better," he murmured with a cough.

"Good. Mama will heat the kettle and we'll do a treatment," she said.

"But that takes a long time. I'll be late for school," Byron said. "Can you write the teacher a note?"

She smoothed back his damp hair. "I think perhaps you'd better stay home. You've been coughing and wheezing a lot lately. You'd better stay quiet today."

"Sounds like a good idea," Sully said with a nod.

Byron felt torn. He wasn't always very fond of school and part of him was happy to be missing a day. But another other part of him was embarrassed about his asthma and didn't like to feel coddled for it. But he was too worried about having another attack to protest. Relaxing at home and having his mother look after him and be right nearby should he have difficulty breathing again sounded very reassuring.

"Red Eagle, you should go downstairs and Grandma will help you get some breakfast," Michaela instructed. "Then Papa will drive you and Katie to school."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. He gave Byron a soft smile. "I'm glad Mama's a doctor. She takes care of you. Makes the asthma better."

Byron smiled back in reply and then rested against Michaela's shoulder tiredly.

"Here, you get under the covers, all tucked in warm," Michaela said, putting on a brave smile. "We'll do your breathing treatment up here."

Byron leaned back against his pillow. "I'm sorry, Ma."

"Shh, hush," she replied, kissing his forehead. "Let's just get you better."

Sully put Byron's lunch tray aside and covered him up again with his quilt. He was on the sitting room settee with his stuffed puppy and a few books, but all he seemed interested in was resting.

"Here ya go, son," Sully said, smoothing his hair. "Ya all right? Ya want another book?"

"Grandma will read to you," Elizabeth spoke up from her chair beside him. "Would you like that?"

"No thanks," he whispered.

She leaned forward and held his hand. "All right. Grandma will just sit with you then."

He squeezed her hand and closed his eyes again. Sully picked up his tray and carried it to the kitchen where Michaela was at the table. She had spread out all their financial papers and the few records she had of the clinic that she kept at home, including the deed and some receipts from various instruments she had bought over the years.

"He didn't eat much," she remarked, glancing toward the sitting room.

"Says he just wants to sleep," he replied, pouring his milk down the drain and putting the glass in the sink.

Michaela glanced across the room. Elizabeth was smoothing his hair and giving his head a kiss. It was so unlike any child, especially Byron, to want to just stay in bed and to be this disinterested in everything. It made her very worried.

"He's just feelin' under the weather. He'll be all right," Sully said, taking a seat at the table.

She sighed and returned her attention to her paperwork, writing down a few more figures with her pencil. "I just don't know how we can do it, Sully," she said dejectedly. "Between the cost of rebuilding the clinic and replacing all my instruments, the recovery beds, sheets, blankets, furniture. Even if we did all the labor ourselves we still need to buy the supplies."

"Maybe you could get by with one or two recovery rooms at first," he said. "Start small."

She shook her head. "We're still talking about hundreds of dollars."

"We gotta realize this is gonna take time," Sully said. "It's gonna be one dollar at a time."

"One quarter at a time," she murmured.

He smiled softly. "Maybe one penny at a time."

Her eyes welled with tears. "� I'm so sorry."

He put his arm around her. "We're in this together. Don't say sorry."

They held each other for a long moment until suddenly Byron began coughing again.

"Oh, dear. Michaela," Elizabeth called.

She stood up. "Byron?"

He coughed harder as Michaela and Sully came into the sitting room. Elizabeth was holding a thick handkerchief beneath his mouth and he was coughing up a small amount of mucus.

"Spit it out, sweetheart. It's all right," Michaela said, grabbing another handkerchief and wiping his mouth. He spit hard into the handkerchief. "Shh, it's all right. Does that feel better?"

"My throat's so scratchy," he murmured.

She grasped his hand. "Come here. Can you stand? We'll give you another breathing treatment."

He coughed as Michaela led him into the kitchen. Sully boosted him onto the table while Michaela put a kettle on the stove.

"You all right, son?" Sully asked worriedly as he gently rubbed his chest.

Byron coughed again and his eyes teared up.

"Sully, could you get my bag?" Michaela said, her voice slightly etched with urgency.

"Yeah," he said, quickly heading off to the dining room and retrieving her bag off the table. He opened it up and headed back to Michaela.

"What's all that, Mama?" Byron asked, glancing at all the papers.

"Nothing. Just paperwork."

"But what for?" he pressed.

"Well, it's � it's so we can figure out how much it will cost to rebuild my clinic. Shh, don't worry about it."

He coughed all the harder and clutched his chest.

"That's three attacks since last night," Sully whispered.

She pulled out a packet of herbs. "It could be just that time of year," she said. "Allergies tend to be seasonal."

"He gonna be all right?"

She glanced at Byron. He was coughing again and holding a handkerchief in his hand. She didn't reply as she found a bowl and poured some herbs inside. "Let's see how he is after his treatment," she finally whispered.

Michaela peered inside the Reverend's throat with a tongue depressor. "Say 'ah'," she instructed.

"Ahh," he replied. He was sitting up in bed, covered up by a quilt, a tray with a bowl of soup across his lap.

She removed the tongue depressor. "Well, it looks a little inflamed. The good news is we've already taken your tonsils out, so it's not them acting up."

He rubbed his throat. "That is good news."

"Unfortunately removing tonsils doesn�t guarantee you'll never have a sore throat again. I'll give you some ground slippery elm to make into a tea. In the meantime rest and drink lots of liquids."

"Thanks for coming out here, Dr. Mike. I would come to your place if I wasn't feeling so poorly."

"It's no trouble. I'm doing house calls all this afternoon."

"Must be hard, having to make house calls now. Not having a clinic to go to."

"Yes, but I'm making do."

"When do you expect you'll rebuild?" the Reverend asked. "I hope Preston was able to put together a good loan for you."

Michaela swallowed and cleaned her tongue depressor off with a cloth. "Loan? You know about the loan?"

"Oh. Well, I just assumed you would go to Preston. Everybody does when they need a lot of money at once."

Michaela was reluctant to tell him the truth, that Preston had turned down their loan and so had all the banks in Denver. For one thing, her and Sully's ups and downs with money over the years was a private thing she wasn't keen to tell anyone about. And she knew the Reverend. She didn't want him to feel sorry for her, or to start soliciting donations for her around town from townsfolk who could barely pay their own bills themselves. She wasn't one to be dishonest, but in this case she felt it was necessary. "Yes. Yes, Preston took care of it," she said quietly. "We expect to start rebuilding very soon."

He smiled. "Well, that's good to hear. If there's anything I can do, you let me know."

"I will." She picked up her bag. "The herbs are right here on the table on your right. I need to get to my next house call."

"Thanks again, Dr. Mike. All the best to the family."

"You're welcome. We'll see you in church Sunday. I'm sure you'll feel better by then."

"I'm sure I will, too," he replied with a smile.

Michaela opened the bedroom door and put her medical bag on the bed, heaving a sigh. "I'm sorry. I thought I'd be back in time for supper. All those house calls took longer than I thought."

Sully was building up the fire for the night and the baby was sound asleep in her crib. "That's all right. Ya want me to heat ya up something?"

"No, I'm not that hungry. Where are the children? The house is so quiet."

"Martha put 'em to bed early. They were tired."

"How's Byron's wheezing? Was he all right?"

"Lot better tonight. I think he'll be all right to go back to school tomorrow. Martha rubbed some salve into his chest before he went to bed. Patted his back again."

"Oh. I was hoping to see him."

"Maybe he's still awake. Wasn't too long ago."

She nodded and walked down the hall to the children's rooms. The boys' door was open a crack and she pushed it open further. They were both asleep, Byron clutching his stuffed puppy and Red Eagle holding his bear. Byron had an old flannel rag pinned around his neck and tucked under his collar where Martha had rubbed a generous amount of salve.

"Sweethearts?" she whispered tentatively.

Red Eagle rolled over and they slept on. Michaela didn't have the heart to wake them. She gave them each a kiss and then left the room, shutting their door. She headed to Katie's room. She was pleased when Katie gradually opened her eyes at the light from the hallway.

"Good, you're still awake," Michaela said, bursting into a smile and sitting on the bed. "Did you have a nice night with Martha and your brothers and sister?"

Katie was more tired than Michaela first thought. She rolled over to face her and weakly hugged Michaela's legs. "Mm," she replied.

Michaela stroked her hair. "Do you want to read from our chapter book? Mama will read to you."

Katie yawned. "It's all right. Martha read to me."

Michaela felt her breath catch in her throat. "Oh, she did?"

"Yeah. She even did the voices just like you do." Katie yawned again and closed her eyes.

"Oh. Good," Michaela murmured. She stroked her hair a moment longer. "All right. I'll let you go to sleep. Night-night. I love you."

"Love you, Mama," Katie whispered, rolling back over and hugging her doll.

Michaela watched her another long moment and then left the room, shutting the door. Sully was in bed and had turned the lamps down.

Michaela quietly slipped out of her clothes and put on her nightgown, then ran her brush through her hair a few times.

"Ya have a good day?" he asked at last.

She nodded. She got up and walked to the crib, rubbing the baby's back, and then joined him in bed. Sully gathered her in his arms.

"Ya seem tired," he remarked, rubbing her back.

"Mm, not really," she murmured.

He rubbed her shoulder. "Somethin' on your mind?"

"No."

"Ya look upset about somethin'."

"No, I'm not upset. I just � I missed the children today, that's all. I wanted to at least tuck them in, spend some time with them. I always tuck them in."

"Ya just couldn't tonight, that's all," he replied.

"I know, I was just looking forward to it. Martha, she really has taken this role as their nanny to heart."

"Kinda nice. Makes it easier on you and me. We can get a lot more done."

"I know, and it's not that I'm not grateful for all her help. I am. I don't know what it is. I just feel like, perhaps she's doing too much."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, tucking them in. I never realized how much I loved doing that until she started doing it for me. I adore Martha. But sometimes I just want to spend time with the children, just us. Without someone else there. It's silly. I'm not being appreciative of all she's helping us with."

"Ya feelin' jealous?" he asked.

"Not jealous, no. Not exactly. I'm glad they have someone looking after them they love, and someone we can trust to keep them safe and see to all their needs."

"Why don't ya just talk to her?" he suggested. "Tell her what's on your mind."

"Martha? No. It would hurt her feelings. She takes her job so seriously." She closed her eyes tiredly. "She was always so upset whenever Mother criticized her when I was growing up. I think she felt like my sisters and I were her children, too."

He gave her a kiss. "Get some sleep. Ya had a long day."

She smiled faintly and kissed him back. "Goodnight."

Teresa opened her pocket watch and glanced at it. "All right, children. Time's up."

The children put down their pencils and several of them stretched their arms.

"Bring your history tests forward and you're dismissed for a twenty minute recess."

The children scurried to hand her their papers and then rushed out the door.

Red Eagle spotted Byron at his desk, resting his head across his folded arms. "Byron, you all right?"

He looked up and coughed. "Yeah."

"Aren't you coming outside for recess? We're gonna play baseball."

"No, I don't feel like it."

"Oh. You still got a cough? I'll stay inside with you."

"No, that's all right. Go ahead."

Red Eagle squeezed his shoulder and headed outside.

Teresa stacked her papers and suddenly noticed Byron still at his desk.

"Byron? Is something wrong?" she asked as she dipped her pen in red ink. "It's recess time."

"Can I stay inside, Miss Teresa?" he asked with a cough. "I don't feel so good."

Brow wrinkled, she got up and walked down the aisle, feeling his forehead. "What is it? Is it your stomach?"

"No, it's just a cough. I always get it." He raised his arms and coughed again violently, his cheeks turning bright red. "I'm sorry, I didn't finish my test."

She glanced at his paper. He had barely managed to write his name at the top.

"You may finish your test later. What about some water?" Teresa suggested worriedly. "Let's step outside and get some water for you. Si?"

He nodded.

"Come," she said, putting her arm around him and leading him out the back door.

"I just don't understand it," Dorothy said as she rubbed the gears of her printing press with an oily cloth. "Why would he turn down your loan?"

"He says we're not a good risk," Michaela replied quietly.

"I'm not a good risk either!" Dorothy cried. "Neither is half this town. But Preston's given all of us loans."

"I don't know, Dorothy. I don't know what's behind all this. Dorothy, I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else about our loan being turned down. It's a sensitive subject for Sully. Well, for all of us."

"Oh, of course not. I understand. I won't say a word." She crouched down beside her press. "Well, now what're you gonna do? Can't believe not one bank in Denver would consider you."

Michaela shrugged. "Raise the money ourselves. What else can we do?"

"I s'pose you're right," Dorothy said, straightening again. She gave her friend a comforting hug. "You'll come up with the money, Michaela. Somehow."

"I hope you're right." She sighed. "Well, I have some house calls to do. I should check on Loren."

Dorothy nodded. "Oh, tell Loren I'll come by this afternoon. Just as soon as I get my printin' press working again."

Michaela nodded with a smile and she headed out the door, nearly colliding with Sully who was standing on the porch, arms crossed and watching the road pensively in all directions.

"Sully, what are you doing here?" Michaela asked with surprise. "I thought you were helping Grace unpack that shipment of dry goods."

"We finished. Just thought I'd wait for ya."

"Oh," she said. "How's Robert E. doing? I hope he's resting his hand."

"He's all right. Can't unpack a shipment too good though."

Michaela eyed Sully a moment longer curiously. "Well, I was, I was just going to make some house calls. I'll see you at home?"

"I'll come with ya," he immediately said.

Andrew approached them carrying a large open crate. "Michaela, Sully. Good morning."

"Oh, good morning, Andrew," Michaela said.

He glanced at the box. It was brimming with various jars and bottles of herbs, tonics and other medicines, including the essentials morphine, chloroform, laudanum, sulfate of magnesium and ergot. "I just, I � there was a shipment error and you see, I, I have all these extra supplies."

"Shipment error?" Michaela said skeptically.

"Yes," he stammered. "That is, they sent me double what I ordered. And, well, I thought you could use them."

Michaela glanced in the crate, then met Andrew's eyes.

"Please, take them, Michaela," he said. "You would do the same for me."

"Andrew, I can't thank you enough," she finally said.

"Just do me a favor and don't mention it to Preston," he replied as he handed the box to Sully.

Sully smiled. "It'll be our secret." He headed over to the wagon parked outside and loaded it into the back.

"Dr. Quinn!" Teresa suddenly called as she walked across the bridge, her arm around Byron securely as he coughed. "Dr. Quinn!"

Michaela met Teresa halfway, Sully and Andrew right behind her.

"Mrs. Slicker, what is it? His asthma?" She glanced toward the schoolyard where the rest of the children were on recess. She could see Red Eagle standing on a tree stump across the meadow, shielding his eyes and watching his little brother worriedly.

"He has been coughing all morning. And he wanted to stay inside during recess. I am worried," Teresa explained.

Michaela felt his forehead. Byron's breathing was slightly labored and his cheeks were flushed from the effort. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. You didn't feel up to playing outside today?"

He shook his head, gently clutching his chest with one hand.

"Wheezing," Andrew remarked quietly, glancing at Michaela.

"I'm afraid we're going to need to pull him out of school again, Mrs. Slicker," Michaela said. "He needs to have a breathing treatment and rest in bed."

"Don't worry, he may make up his schoolwork later."

Byron cleared his throat and glanced up at his teacher. "I'm sorry, Miss Teresa," he whispered.

She ever so gently caressed his head, the worry in her eyes evident. "Shh. You will be back soon, Byron."

"Thank you, Mrs. Slicker," Michaela said.

"Come on, son," Sully said, grasping his hand. "We'll get in the wagon and go home."

"I thought he was doing well with his asthma," Andrew said as Sully gently lifted Byron up onto the front seat and found a blanket in back to cover him with.

"He was," Michaela explained. "Until recently. He's been coughing and wheezing every day for a week. He doesn't seem to be responding to the stramonium any more. I don't understand it."

"Have you read Dr. Salter's research on the disorder? He has a lot of interesting ideas."

"Yes, ages ago. He agrees stramonium is a good course of action."

"He also says he's had success with nitre paper. It's a new treatment, but I think it's worth a try."

"I suppose. But it's going to take weeks to order nitre paper."

"No it won't. I have some," Andrew said. "I ordered it for a patient with sleep apnea. An elderly man staying in Preston's hotel for the winter. Michaela, it just might work."

"You've already been so generous, Andrew," she replied emotively.

He clutched her shoulder. "Bring him by my clinic tomorrow, all right? I don't have any appointments in the afternoon."

She swallowed hard. "Thank you."

"Scotch?" Preston's father asked as he poured himself a large glass of the amber liquid out of a glass flask at the hotel bar.

Claudette was holding onto Preston's arm, desperately trying to make conversation with the two men and enjoy herself. But she was convinced Preston's father hated her even before he met her, and she had no idea how to change his mind.

"No thank you, Father," Preston said awkwardly.

"Come now. I had this imported from Edinburgh. Single grain. Very rare in this part of the country indeed."

"Father I, um � I gave up drinking," Preston said hesitantly.

Preston the second eyed him in utter confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I don't drink anymore."

He chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Well, I'm sure you can make an exception for scotch!"

He glanced at Claudette. "Well, no, Father. I can't. You see, Claudette thinks, she believes it's best to abstain completely. She's done quite a bit of research on it."

"Is that right, my dear?" Preston Sr. said. "Are you implying the Lodges can't hold their liquor?"

"No, sir," she immediately replied. "That is, I'm sure you can. It's just, lots of men start out believing they can hold their liquor. And then six months later they've lost their fortunes and beaten their wives and children half to death and left them to the streets. I can provide you with some wonderful literature from the Women's Christian Temperance Union."

"She was just elected treasurer of the New England chapter," Preston added proudly, squeezing her shoulder.

"Lovely. Yes, yes, well," he said. "I hope you're not opposed to boxing, too."

"Boxing?" she blurted.

"Yes, a Lodge tradition." He put down his glass and rolled up his sleeves. "Come on, son. Let's show her what we mean."

"Oh, Father. Not now."

He raised his fists. "I taught all my sons boxing. Frederick was the most talented I must say. But little Preston here wasn't bad, were you, boy? Preston, let's just show her the left hook. It's your best move."

Preston sighed and rolled up his sleeves. He always loved the sport of boxing, but as a boy he hated having to box his father. Mostly because his father always beat him so badly. Preston the second wouldn't dream of letting any of his sons win. Losing is how you learn, he would always say. And he always gloated and teased him to no end when he beat him. Preston remembered thinking he couldn't wait to become a man so they would be more evenly matched and he could really get his father back. Now that Preston was grown and his father an old man, Preston was sure he probably could beat him very handily. But now it just didn't seem to matter anymore.

"If you insist, Father. Just briefly." He raised his fists.

Preston the second threw a punch in his direction that Preston neatly dodged. "Come on, Preston. Left hook. Let's see it. Watch this, my dear."

Preston's father punched again, hitting Preston in the cheek and barely doing any damage. Preston hit him back with the left hook, connecting hard with his left fist and splitting his father's lip open. Blood splatter on his father's pressed white shirt and dripped down his chin.

Preston the second staggered back, clutching his wound with his hand.

"Father!" Preston exclaimed. "Oh, no. I'm sorry!"

"Oh, Mr. Lodge!" Claudette said, quickly grabbing her handkerchief and pressing it to his wound. "What a barbaric sport. Sweetheart, go run and get Dr. Cook. This looks serious."

"I can't. I gave him the night off," Preston said helplessly. "I think he said he was going to Manitou to see a play."

"Why would you give an employee the night off?" his father grumbled.

"Then go get Michaela for heaven sake," Claudette said. "Hurry. I'll stay with him."

"Really, it's just a little blood," Preston's father said with a chuckle. He patted Preston's arm. "Well, I see you've still got it. Well done, my boy."

"I'm afraid you may need stitches, Father," Preston said. "I'll be back with the doctor as soon as I can."

"Good, you ate a little stew," Michaela said as she took the end of Byron's napkin from his collar and wiped his milk mustache.

"Yeah," Byron said as he put his milk glass down. "I think I could eat a little pie, too."

She smiled. "Oh, do you now? Good."

"At least his appetite's back," Elizabeth remarked as Martha dished up the apple pie.

"It's better," Michaela murmured, watching Byron worriedly.

Red Eagle poked Byron playfully in the side and Byron poked him back.

"The baby can have some pie, right, Mama?" Katie spoke up.

"I'm afraid not, sweetheart," Michaela said. "She's too little for pie yet."

"Yes she can," Martha said. "Well, at least she'll have a taste of the apples. I made some applesauce for her."

As if she had understood her perfectly Eliza beamed and clapped her hands in her high chair beside Michaela.

"Oh, look at her," Elizabeth said with a chuckle. "She can't wait to taste Martha's applesauce."

"You're sure a good cook, Martha," Sully said. "Supper was real good."

She smiled delightedly and handed him a piece of pie.

"Yeah, that was the best stew I ever had," Byron remarked, poking Red Eagle again.

"Yeah, sure was," Sully said.

Michaela swallowed and turned her attention to the baby, busying herself wiping her sticky face and hands. Eliza tossed her head and began fussing and whimpering.

Suddenly Red Eagle grabbed his fork and stabbed Byron in his side.

"Hey! Ouch!" Byron cried, grabbing his fork.

"Red Eagle! Byron, don�t you dare!" Michaela said just as Byron jabbed his fork into his brother's arm in retaliation.

"Ow! Hey!" Red Eagle cried. He clutched his wounded arm and shoved Byron roughly.

The baby stared at the boys with a start and suddenly burst into tears, waving her arms.

"Boys, stop it!" Michaela cried. "No! We never use silverware as weapons. Or behave this way at the table."

The boys ignored her completely and started kicking each other under the table, jostling everyone's cups and plates and silverware.

"Stop! Sully, do you see this?" Michaela said helplessly, lifting the baby out of her high chair and patting her back.

"Byron, Red Eagle," Sully said. "Hey, ya listen to your ma!"

Martha suddenly clapped her hands. "Children," she said sternly. "Boys!"

Byron and Red Eagle ceased what they were doing and looked up at her.

Martha pointed her finger at them. "Stop fighting at once and behave like proper little gentlemen at the table, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Byron murmured, folding his hands in his lap.

"Yes, ma'am," Red Eagle said, placing his fork beside his plate.

Eliza screeched and squirmed in Michaela's arms, wailing loudly.

"Shh, hush," Michaela said. "You scared your baby sister with your carrying on," she scolded.

Martha gave the boys another stern look and nodded in Michaela's direction.

"Sorry, Ma," Red Eagle whispered.

"Sorry, Ma," Byron said. "Sorry, Eliza."

"Sorry, Eliza," Red Eagle added.

Michaela glanced at the boys and kept rubbing Eliza's back just as someone knocked on the door. Sully got up to answer it, putting his napkin on the table.

"Preston?" he murmured in surprise as he opened the door.

Preston stepped inside. "It's my father. He's been hurt. He split his lip open."

"Here, let me take her," Martha said, reaching for the baby and lifting her into her arms. "There, there, Eliza Quinn Sully. There, there." The baby stopped crying immediately and hugged Martha's neck.

"I don't know how long I'll be gone," Michaela said as she got up and put her jacket on.

"I'll stay, miss," Martha offered. "Don't worry about a thing."

"I better come with ya," Sully said as he reached for his jacket.

"No, I think you should stay, too," Michaela said. "What if Byron has another attack? I want you here."

"Mama," Byron protested with embarrassment.

"Stay with Byron, Sully. Please?" she said.

He reluctantly hung his jacket back up. "All right. Just, you be careful. Preston, ya make sure she gets home?"

Preston cleared his throat. "Oh, certainly. I'll send our hotel driver."

Michaela eyed Sully with confusion, then glanced at the children. Katie had already got up to hug Martha, thrilled the nanny would be staying late tonight. "Listen to your father and grandmother, all right?" Michaela instructed. "I love you." She pressed her fingers to her lips and kissed them.

"Martha, could we make some popcorn tonight?" Red Eagle asked.

She rocked the baby. "Oh, I think we could. If you help me clean up supper."

"Yippie!" Byron said.

Michaela bit her lip and grabbed her medical bag. "Goodbye. Listen to Papa. I love you."

"All right. Love you," Byron said fleetingly as he got up to hug Martha. "With butter?"

"With butter!" the nanny replied with a chuckle.

Michaela wiped away the blood from Preston the second's lip and studied his wound carefully. "It's not too deep. But I think I'd like to apply a few sutures. How exactly did this happen again?"

"We were boxing," Preston said, arms folded.

"Boxing," Michaela repeated.

"You wouldn't understand. Women never do," Preston Sr. explained.

Michaela raised her eyebrows and laid out a clean cloth on the bar. "Preston, I'm going to need some water and some ice."

"Yes, of course. In the hotel kitchen. I'll get it," he replied, touching Claudette's back and hurrying out of the room.

"Well, young lady, I'm surprised you even want to treat me," Preston the second remarked.

Michaela laid out a suturing needle on the cloth. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Why, after I denied your father's loan."

"I don't hold grudges, Mr. Lodge. Especially for things that happened before I was even born. I'm a doctor, you're a patient. That's all there is to it."

"Not much of a doctor now after your clinic burned down."

Michaela met his eyes, a little taken aback by his rather callous remark. "I still have my practice."

"No thanks to my son I hear."

Now Michaela was truly surprised. She stopped what she was doing. "How did you know about our loan?"

"I suppose now you'll go around tarnishing Preston's good name just like Josef Quinn did to me. No matter you were a terrible risk just like your father was, never would have paid it off anyway."

"What are you talking about?" Michaela blurted. "My father never did anything to you."

Claudette cleared her throat. "Michaela, Mr. Lodge seems to think Father behaved rather recklessly after he denied him the loan."

"Mr. Lodge, I know for a fact that's not true," Michaela protested.

"Ask your mother. Elizabeth, isn't it? She remembers."

"She remembers no such thing," Claudette spoke up. "I talked to her."

"You talked to Mother about this?" Michaela said, turning to Claudette. "How does everyone know everything about my personal financial matters? I thought that was confidential."

"Well, in any case, it's a good thing I got here in time before Preston made the biggest mistake of his life," Preston the second said.

"You convinced Preston not to give me the loan," Michaela whispered in disbelief.

"Of course I did. It would have been irresponsible of me not too. Take no offense, my dear. It's just good business. Preston's young, he still has quite a bit to learn. Occasionally he needs a little prodding in one direction or the other. He'll be very successful one day though, mark my words."

"He already is quite successful," Claudette spoke up timidly. "At least I think so."

"I would have paid off that loan, Mr. Lodge," Michaela said firmly. "Every penny of it. It was your son's loss."

Preston returned with a bowl of ice and a pitcher of water. "There's more ice if you need it, Michaela."

Michaela eyed him a moment, resentment flickering in her eyes. Claudette looked positively distressed, although Preston the second was as calm and confident as ever.

"Uh, is something wrong?" Preston finally asked. "Father's all right, isn't he?"

"Of course I am," Preston the second muttered.

"He's fine," Michaela said. "Why don't you two wait outside? This will only take a few minutes."

"Certainly. Thank you, Michaela," Preston said, grasping Claudette's hand lovingly and leading her out of the room.

"Do you know why Preston turned down our loan? The real reason?" Michaela said angrily, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Sully was nearly asleep in bed, his hands folded across his chest. "Real reason?" he murmured.

Michaela paced furiously. "Because his father turned down my father for a loan when he was trying to start his medical practice, and now somehow he thinks my father tried to ruin his reputation out of spite."

He blinked. "What?"

"That's right. He said my father tried to bring down his business. Mr. Lodge couldn't even remember my father when I first met him several years ago. Now suddenly my family tried to destroy his family? Preston's father convinced Preston not to give us that loan, Sully."

"Why would your pa wanna hurt somebody like that?"

"He wouldn't. At least I don't think he would. Even if he did, it was more than fifty years ago! And what does whatever happened between my father and Preston's father have to do with us?"

"It don't."

She sighed bitterly and walked to the vanity, resting her hands atop it.

Sully slowly got out of bed and came up behind her, rubbing her arm. "So he just wants his pa's approval. Sounds like any son. Or daughter."

"He picked a fine time to try to win his father's approval," she muttered. Her eyes welled with tears, she made a fist and pounded it on the vanity.

"Hey, hey, take it easy," Sully said, rubbing her back. "Michaela, this ain't worth you gettin' this upset."

"I'm sorry. I'm just � I'm frustrated, that's all."

"I know. But we said it before. We don't need Preston to rebuild your clinic. We can do it ourselves."

She turned to face him. "Sully, you were right about something."

"What's that?"

"I am afraid. Afraid it's never going to be the same. Afraid the medical practice I used to have is gone forever."

"Maybe it is," he murmured. "And it's all right to feel some hurt about that. But when Preston's pa turned down your pa's loan, he didn't give up. He built his practice anyway. We ain't givin' up either."

Sully gave her a comforting kiss and reached for the buttons on her blouse, quickly unclasping them and slipping it off her shoulders.

Their physical relationship seemed to be the only stability in their lives lately. Michaela found herself turning to him frequently for his love and affection. And especially at the moment, how furious she was about Preston and the loan he clearly never was going to give her, she just wanted to lose herself in Sully's embrace.

Sully made love to her right there, leaning her against the vanity, kissing her neck and her breasts and knocking over several photographs and bottles of perfume in the process. She had a moment where it all seemed a little undignified, especially if she let herself think about her mother sleeping just downstairs, but Sully seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. He stroked her thigh and whispered in her ear how much he loved her and how good it was being with her, and she felt better. At least for the time being, she put all their troubles aside and just relaxed and enjoyed making love with her husband in the privacy and security of their bedroom.

"Here you are, dearie," Martha said, placing a breakfast tray across Byron's lap in the sitting room. He was covered in a blanket and had a cloth pinned around his neck where Martha had rubbed some strong-smelling salve on his chest. "Try to eat a little porridge. I put extra brown sugar in it just for you."

"All right, Nanny Martha," he whispered tiredly.

She gave his head a kiss and then returned to the kitchen where Elizabeth and the children had just started eating.

"Breakfast is excellent as usual, Martha," Elizabeth said. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, mum. More coffee?"

"Please."

"I want some, too," Red Eagle said.

"Silly, you can't have any. We're not allowed," Katie said, swinging her legs.

"Nanny Martha will let me. Nanny, can't I have some? Pretty please?" he said.

She topped off Elizabeth's cup. "No, no, dearie. It's not for children. You'll never grow."

"Oh, I don't care about growing," Red Eagle said. "I can stay short forever. That's all right."

"But how will you reach stuff?" Katie asked.

"Oh. Didn't think about that."

Martha chuckled. "How about some hot cocoa?"

"Hot cocoa. Yea!" he squealed.

"Me, too?" Katie replied excitedly.

"You, too," she said with a chuckle, turning to the stove.

Claudette threw open the front door and marched inside. "Where's Michaela?" she demanded.

"Morning, Auntie!" Katie said.

"She hasn't come down yet," Elizabeth said. "Why, what's the matter?"

"I must speak with her immediately," Claudette said, spinning around and heading for the stairs.

"Claudette, they may still be sleeping! I was already in bed by the time she got home last night!" Elizabeth cried. "What's this about?"

"You'd better knock!" Red Eagle called helpfully. "You'll get in big trouble!"

Claudette pounded up the stairs and banged on Michaela's door resolutely. "Michaela, wake up! It's Claudette Atkins! Your sister!"

A long moment later Sully opened the door, wearing just his buckskins and looking rather disheveled.

Claudette eyed his chest a moment and tried not to cringe at how hairy he was. Thank goodness Preston didn't look like him. She blinked rapidly. "Oh, good morning," she stammered. "Oh, dear. Is Michaela here? I must speak with her at once."

He glanced at their bed. "Yeah, just uh, give us a minute."

She cleared her throat. "Oh. Certainly."

He closed the door and Claudette stood there, impatiently tapping her foot. Finally Sully opened it again, looking more refreshed and dressed in boots and a shirt too this time.

"Mornin'," he said, touching her arm and walking down the hall for the stairs.

She rolled her eyes and entered the room, slamming the door behind her. Michaela had a bathrobe on and slippers and was casually straightening up her vanity.

"Michaela, about last evening. I wanted to explain," Claudette said.

"Explain what?" Michaela replied.

Claudette eyed the disheveled vanity in horror. Photographs were overturned and it looked as though some tonic water had spilled. "Good Lord, Michaela. I hope you're being careful. That last child Sully forced you to have nearly killed you, and Lord knows you couldn't afford anymore anyway now that you've lost everything."

Michaela turned bright red and spun around. "Of course we're being careful. For heaven sake, Claudette."

"Oh. Well, good. I should hope so."

"You said you had something to explain?"

"Michaela, I'm afraid I'm truly in an impossible position. I hope you can understand. I'm very sorry your little office burned down, truly."

"That little office was my medical practice," Michaela replied. "My clinic."

"Clinic, office, call it what you like. The point is I've tried talking to Preston. I have. He just won't change his mind. I don't know what else I'm supposed to do. Believe you me I think it's terrible the way his father waltzed in here and made your loan his business and manipulated Preston the way he did. But it's just � I'm afraid there's nothing I can do about it."

"I was humiliated yesterday, Claudette," Michaela said. "I can't believe his father even knows about this."

"Of course you were humiliated. I would have been to. To have anyone else know how positively destitute you are must be terribly embarrassing. I just can't image how I would feel."

Michaela sighed and straightened the last photograph. "He's going to be your husband," she whispered. "I thought you of all people would be able to help me."

"Preston's father, Michaela. He's � he expects so much of poor Preston. And Preston tries so hard, only to disappoint. And me, I'm going to be his daughter-in-law. The last thing I want to do is get on his bad side. Not that I'm not already. You're married, you can understand father-in-laws."

Michaela softened and stepped toward her. "I know this is difficult for you. It's not fair of me to expect you to go against your fiance. You're marrying into their family. You should try to keep the peace."

"Well, I suppose I'm doing a horrible job of it so far. Mr. Lodge won't even look at me. I'm Irish, I'm Catholic, I have children from another marriage, and I'm too old to give him any grandchildren. I'm really all wrong for his son."

Michaela chuckled despite herself.

"What?" Claudette blurted. "It's not funny."

"It's just, no matter how grown up we are parents always think they know who's best for their child. Mother hated Sully, remember?"

"She wasn't the only one," Claudette muttered.

"But it all worked out just fine, you see?" Michaela said optimistically. "She loves him now."

"Let's not go that far. But I see your point. Mr. Lodge will come around."

Michaela gently grasped her hand. "I appreciate you coming to talk to me about this. And I understand how you feel. I do."

"Good, that's a relief," Claudette said. "Michaela, we really should have more of these nice sisterly talks. I don't know why you always avoided such things in the past. We could have accomplished so much!"

"Indeed," Michaela said with another chuckle. "Join us for breakfast?"

"Yes, I think I will. Thank you."

"Bye, Mama. Bye, Byron," Red Eagle said one last time as he filed out the door with Katie and Martha, his schoolbooks and lunch pail in tow.

"Bye, Byron," Katie said sweetly. "I'll miss you."

"Have a good day at school, sweethearts," Michaela said. "Study hard."

"Bye," Byron called weakly.

Michaela tucked a quilt around Byron on the sitting room settee and kissed his head.

"Why don't you take a nap? Our appointment with Dr. Cook isn't until after lunch," she murmured, handing him a fresh handkerchief.

"I don't want to go," he protested softly.

"Shh. Just rest right now," she said, smoothing back his hair one last time.

She headed to the kitchen where Claudette and Elizabeth were drinking coffee.

"All right, so it's true. Your father was rather vengeful after Mr. Lodge denied his loan," Elizabeth blurted suddenly.

"What?" Michaela replied.

"Mother, you said Mr. Lodge made all of that up," Claudette protested.

"Well, not exactly. Josef Quinn had an Irish temper, always did," Elizabeth said. "You two take after him I'm afraid."

"Temper? I don't have a temper," Claudette protested. "That's all Michaela. She's the one throwing a tantrum all the time whenever she doesn't get her way like she's three years old."

"I do not throw tantrums," Michaela replied, taking a seat. "I just � I can get angry rather easily, that's all. You throw tantrums."

"I do not!"

"Girls?" Elizabeth said. "Do you want to hear this or not?"

"I'm sorry, Mother. Go ahead," Michaela said.

"I still remember the day he came home from Mr. Lodge's bank. We weren't married but a few months then and still getting to know each other. Of course I was in the family way already and that preoccupied most of our thoughts, and we were in the process of trying to hire at least a halfway competent chambermaid to help me, which took nearly all our time. We went through three different girls before we finally found Martha. One of them even fed cow's milk to Rebecca once, can you imagine? Six weeks old she was. She spit up for an hour straight and we had to rush her to the hospital in a blizzard walking all the way because we hadn't quite gotten around to purchasing a sleigh for the colder months. Good heavens, that was a nightmare."

Michaela raised her eyebrows, wondering when her mother was going to get to the point.

"What does this have to do with anything, Mother?" Claudette said impatiently.

"What I'm saying is that Josef was under a great deal of pressure. He was newly married, he was going to be a father for the first time, and he was trying to start a medical practice and support me and our new family. So when Mr. Lodge turned down his loan it's true that he did tell � a few �. others not to do business with him."

"How many is a few?" Michaela asked hesitantly.

"Mother?" Claudette prompted. "Answer us. How many is a few?"

"Well � his entire graduating class at Harvard," Elizabeth said. "He wrote every doctor a letter explaining what had happened. Told them all to spread the word."

"Oh, no," Michaela breathed. "Mother."

"Oh, Mother," Claudette said.

"I'm sure it must have affected Mr. Lodge's business somewhat. But I daresay he managed to recover."

"It's just so hard to imagine Father being malicious like that," Michaela murmured.

"Well, dear, you didn't come along until fifteen years later. Your father was a different man in his younger days. He was twenty-five when Mr. Lodge turned down his loan, still a boy really, and a bit of a hot head, quick to speak and react. Much like you at that age. He mellowed as he grew older, became more experienced. By the time you were born he had long realized men like Preston Lodge the second aren't worth his energy."

"There's one thing I know," Michaela said. "If Father were still alive he would apologize to Mr. Lodge for any misunderstanding and shake hands with him. The past would all be over and done with in two minutes, and they would soon be laughing and sharing some brandy and talking about politics."

Elizabeth sighed. "Yes, that was your father. Absolutely."

"But he's not here," Michaela said. "So now what?"

Elizabeth and Michaela looked to Claudette.

"What?! Don't!" Claudette said. "Michaela, you promised. You said you wouldn't put me in this position."

"You're right. I won't," Michaela said.

"Like I said I tried. It's no use," Claudette said.

"Try harder," Elizabeth instructed.

Claudette sighed. "Mother, please don't. And don't you hold this against him. He's going to be your son-in-law and I want you to be civil."

"Son-in-law," Elizabeth muttered. "He could show a little compassion for his future sister-in-law."

"Perhaps if we give it a little time, he'll change his mind," Michaela said.

Elizabeth chuckled. "You'll be waiting forever."

"Well, it's not the end of the world," Michaela said reluctantly. "Sully says we don't need his help and he's right. We're going to raise the money ourselves."

"Yourselves?! How?!" Claudette blurted. "I mean, yes. Yes, indeed. Good plan."

"Well, I just hope those two can live with this," Elizabeth remarked.

"Oh, Mother, don't be so dramatic," Claudette said. "It's just business."

"Claudette's right," Michaela spoke up. "It was a business decision."

"Since when are you are on their side?" Elizabeth cried.

"Well, since � since I realized my sister is marrying into that family and I shouldn't make it harder for her."

"Thank you, Michaela. At least someone around here isn't being completely selfish," Claudette said.

"Mother, it's just, I can't dwell on this forever no matter how I feel about it. I need to move on. Just like Father eventually moved on when Preston's father denied his loan. He found another way to make his medical practice happen."

"Yes, and so will you," Claudette said. "Well, somehow. I hope."

"Are you all right, sweetheart?" Michaela asked worriedly as Sully pulled up the wagon to Andrew's clinic.

Byron nodded half-heartedly, his head resting against Michaela's shoulder. She couldn't blame him for being tired. All the wheezing and coughing he had been doing lately was really starting to wear him down.

"Whoa," Sully said. He climbed down from the wagon and held his arms up for the little boy. "Come on."

"I don't wanna go to Dr. Cook's," he protested weakly.

"I know. I'm sorry. Just for a treatment. It'll be quick," Michaela said as she helped Sully lift him to the ground. Then Sully gave her a hand down and together they led Byron to the door.

Michaela knocked and Andrew immediately opened the door with a kind smile.

"Good afternoon, Michaela. Good afternoon, Byron."

"Hey," Byron muttered.

Andrew guided them inside. There was a small steaming kettle on the stove emitting a cloud of faintly sweet-smelling smoke. He took it off the stove with a towel.

"I hear you're not feeling so well," Andrew said as he placed it on a table beside a chair.

Byron leaned against Michaela again.

"It's been a rough few days," Michaela said quietly, rubbing Byron's back.

"I'm going to see what I can do to help, all right?" Andrew said. "Why don't you take a seat?"

"Mama, I don't want to do my treatment here," Byron protested in a whisper. "I wanna do it at home. I promise I'll do it. I just want to do it at home."

"Mama doesn't have this medicine at home, sweetheart," she whispered back, helping him sit in the chair. "Be a good boy and do it here, all right?"

"Nitre paper," Andrew said as he placed the steaming kettle in front of the little boy. "Dr. Salter's article highly recommends it."

Michaela nodded in agreement and unfolded a towel, placing it over his head. "Deep, deep breaths, sweetheart. Good, I'm proud of you."

Andrew listened to Byron's back with his stethoscope as he breathed.

"Has his asthma ever been like this before?" he asked.

"Not since he first came down with it and we were trying to get it under control," she said, shaking her head. "I keep him out of the barn, away from the hay. It breaks his heart but we don't let him go near the horses anymore, or any of the animals. I dust and clean the entire house every day top to bottom. I just can't pinpoint what's causing this."

Byron suddenly broke into a fit of coughing and Sully wrinkled his brow and rubbed his back soothingly.

"Try to keep breathing," Michaela murmured unsteadily. "Deep as you can."

"Sometimes asthmatics go through periods where their attacks get worse," Andrew said. "It won't last forever."

She rubbed Byron's arm emotively. "He's even had to miss school he's been wheezing so much some mornings."

Andrew folded his stethoscope and put it aside. "Let's see how he does on the nitre paper. I'll give you some to take home."

"Andrew, we can't pay you for it," she protested.

"It's all right. You can pay me when you can."

"But-"

"Michaela, what's important is Byron starts feeling better."

"Thank you," she whispered. "Sully and I both appreciate all your help. With everything."

"That's right," Sully said. "Ya really been here for us."

He nodded. "Dr. Hyde also recommends cold baths. You might try that as well. We'll get this back under control. I know we will. It just may take some time."

She nodded reluctantly and gave Byron's back a gentle kiss. "We'll get it under control, sweetheart. We promise."

Faye covered up Danielle in her crib, then looked at the clock as she clutched her belly. Something was definitely happening, she was sure of it.

Kirk came in from doing the chores and walked to the basin, washing his face and arms. "That old barn door hasn't shut right in a week. Think I'll head into town and get some supplies to fix it."

She casually walked to their table and sat down. "Sweetheart?"

He dried his face off with a towel. "Yeah?"

"I keep gettin' these funny cramps, like I ate a bad apple. And my back hurts."

He put the towel aside and walked over to her. "Honey, you been gettin' funny cramps for two weeks now."

She clutched her back. "This is different. I think this might be it."

He rubbed her back where her hand was. "Really? Should I get Dr. Mike?"

"No, not just yet. I don't want to trouble her unless we're sure it's the real thing."

"Maybe you should get in bed, rest."

"No. Let's take a walk. The baby's asleep. She'll be asleep for at least an hour."

A glanced at the crib. "A walk? Honey, I don't know."

"Dr. Mike says walkin' helps get labor goin'. Please?"

He put his hat on. "All right, honey. All right. Let me get your shawl."

"He's asleep. His breathing sounds better," Michaela remarked as Sully headed the wagon toward home. Byron was reclined beside her, his head in her lap.

Sully caressed Byron's hair worriedly. "How often we gotta do those treatments?"

"I think we should start doing them twice a day. We can slowly decrease them as he starts feeling better. And I'm going to do the cold baths too like Andrew suggested. Every evening."

"Whatever it takes to make him feel better," Sully vowed.

She sighed. "It seems like we've spent most of his life trying to spare him from hurt. I don't understand how some parents seem to just want to hurt their children. How could Preston's father put Preston in a position like that, involving himself so much in all his affairs?"

"At least now we know there's two sides to the story. Turns out your Pa did have a little misunderstandin' with him back in the day."

"I suppose. But it's not just Preston who�s suffering, or us since he turned down our loan. He's after Claudette, too."

"What's he got against her? Thought he'd love Preston to end up with somebody from Boston."

"Not at all. It's her religion. Our Irish heritage. Her age."

Sully chuckled. "She ain't old."

"She can't give him the Preston the fourth he wants."

"That may be true. But who cares? She's already had her kids. Preston'll be their stepfather."

"Frankly it's none of Mr. Lodge's business in the first place whether his son has children. I can't imagine how humiliated I would feel when we were trying to conceive Katie if Mother were down our backs pressuring us about it. I know how important it was to her I have a family like all my sisters did, but she managed to hold her tongue for six months and let us take our time."

Sully smiled. "Six months. Ain't that somethin' like a record for Elizabeth?"

She smiled faintly. "Well, I suppose if it's that important to them they could always adopt."

Now Sully looked truly scandalized. "They can't adopt."

"Certainly they can. Why not? We could refer them to the private orphanage where Red Eagle stayed for a few days."

"You wanna put a child under their care? I heard they got police in Denver who take kids away from people like them."

She chuckled despite herself. "Sully. I think they could give a needy child a wonderful home and whatever he could want. He'd have a wonderful life."

"With them two? He's better off in an orphanage."

She chuckled again and gently pushed his ribs. "Stop it."

He smiled and leaned over to kiss her. "Don't worry. They'll sort it all out. Let's go home."

Martha brought over another quilt to cover Byron up on the settee. She sat beside him with an arithmetic book and a slate as Michaela read a thermometer in the light.

"Good, no fever," she said, shaking out the thermometer and wiping it off. "All right, I want you to sit here and Martha will help you with your schoolwork while Mama sees some patients." She put it back in its case.

"Do I really have to do schoolwork?" Byron protested.

"Just try a little. I don't want you falling too far behind."

"I'll help you, dearie," Martha said. "We'll finish it in no time."

Michaela kissed his head just as someone knocked on the door. "That'll be my first patient. Mrs. Foley has an appointment. Call me if you need me."

She headed over to the door and opened it, surprised to find Grace standing there, her buggy parked out front. She looked a little under the weather and was wrapped in a warm shawl.

"Oh. Grace? Is something wrong?"

"Hope you don't mind me droppin' by, Dr. Mike. Robert E. made me. I've been feeling poorly for a few days now. A cough and the chills."

"Oh. Of course. Come on in."

She guided Grace inside and Byron rushed over to her, his schoolwork forgotten, and gave her a big hug.

"Miss Grace!" he cried.

"Byron, no, no," Michaela scolded. "She's sick."

Grace gently patted his back. "What are you doin' home from school, pumpkin?"

"My asthma," he explained. "I have to do this thing called ni-tray paper and take a cold bath."

Michaela worriedly pulled him back. "Martha, please come get him. I don't want him getting up from the settee again. And I don't want him around my patients."

"But, Mama," he protested. "I wanna tell Miss Grace about my asthma."

"Go lie down and do your schoolwork. Be a good boy," she instructed as Martha grasped his hand and led him away.

"But what if I have to go to the outhouse?!" he cried as Martha guided him back to the settee.

"You may get up to use the outhouse," she told him with exasperation. "But only for that."

"What if there's a flood, and water comes through the house and we almost drown? Then can I get up?" he called. "Mama! What if there's an earthquake? Can I get up then?"

Michaela sighed and pulled over the screens she had set up in front of the kitchen table, blocking Byron from view.

Michaela took out her stethoscope. "I'm sorry, Grace. Please, take a seat."

Grace got up on the table and rested her feet on a chair and Michaela listened to her lungs for a long moment. Her expression became increasingly serious as the seconds ticked by. She felt Grace's forehead and her tonsils and then felt her forehead again.

"Dr. Mike?" Grace finally said.

Michaela put her stethoscope aside. "Grace, I'm afraid you have pneumonia in both lungs."

"Pneumonia? What? I can't be that sick. It's just a catarrh."

"Sometimes we call it walking pneumonia. Patients don't usually feel very ill until it's progressed into something much worse. I'm glad you came to see me early."

"Am I gonna be all right?"

She patted her arm reassuringly. "You'll be fine. You're going to need to close the caf� though and get lots of rest at home."

"Sure, Dr. Mike. Whatever you say."

Michaela walked out from the screens to the crate of medicines from Andrew she had set up on the bureau near the door. "Here, I'll give you some herbs and tonics you can take." She paused as she saw Byron gazing at her petulantly, holding his slate. She glanced at Grace again. Grace coughed into her handkerchief and dabbed at her nose. "Actually, Martha, could you take him upstairs please?"

"Upstairs!" Byron cried. "Mama, but I wanna stay down here with you!"

"Right now, please, Martha," Michaela said urgently.

"This is no fair. It's no fair, Nanny Martha," Byron protested as Martha gathered his book and slate and blanket.

"Come along, dearie. Come along. Good boys listen to their mothers," Martha said. She helped him off the settee.

"Nanny, but this is no fair!" Byron went on as Martha disappeared with him upstairs.

"Get the chair, too, Martha," Michaela instructed. She was leaning over the kitchen table with a scrub brush and a shallow pan of hydrogen chloride. Her hair was coming out in wisps from her braid and sweat marked the underarms of her blouse.

"I can do this, Miss Michaela," Martha said, pulling out the chair. "It's no trouble. Go sit down."

"No, you don't know how," Michaela said. She paused, realizing that sounded harsher than she intended. "It's just, there's a particular way to disinfect for it to be truly effective."

Martha nodded obediently as Michaela scrubbed harder at the table.

Sully opened the door, taking off his jacket. "What's goin' on? Smells just like your clinic in here."

Michaela put the scrub brush aside and walked toward him, relieved to see him. She was desperate for someone to take her seriously. "Grace has pneumonia in both lungs," she said distraughtly. "She was just here."

"Pneumonia? She all right?"

"Grace? She's fine. It's Byron. He was in the same room when she was here. He hugged her."

He just looked back at her in confusion.

Michaela sighed. "Sully, if he comes down with pneumonia ..."

"Is it real contagious?"

"Well, not exactly. But he could still get it. What with his asthma, how weak his lungs are right now I don't even know if he would � "

"All right, just calm down. He don't got it. Probably won't."

She returned to the table and picked up the brush again, scrubbing hard on the boards. "Martha's helping me disinfect everything. He's upstairs in his room until we finish."

Martha smiled faintly at Sully and ran her cloth vigorously over the seat of the chair.

"I'll go up an' sit with him," Sully offered. He clutched Michaela's arm. "He'll be all right. Let us know when you're done." He gave her head a kiss and headed upstairs.

Faye leaned over the bed and let out a mighty scream, her face bathed in sweat. "Make � it �.. stop!" she cried.

"You're doin' great, honey." Kirk helplessly stood by her with a cloth, ready to wipe her face and neck when the contraction was over. She was just fine all afternoon, with just a few mild contraction and a nagging backache. They went for a walk and cooked supper together and they were laughing and joking. They put Danielle to bed and were prepared to go to bed themselves, chalking it all up as another false alarm. Then suddenly in the last half hour things had escalated three fold. And before they knew it they were all by themselves without a doctor to be found and the baby apparently well on its way.

Faye suddenly held her breath and grunted, holding the sheets tightly in her fists.

"Oh, gosh. That's pushin'," Kirk murmured. "Honey, don't do that. Stop. Faye, ya can't do that just yet."

"Kirk! Don't tell me what to do!" she shouted.

"Sorry. I'm sorry."

She took another breath and bore down again.

"Honey, just wish you wouldn't do that," he whispered. "I gotta get Dr. Mike first." He reluctantly shifted up her nightgown, afraid of what he might find.

"I can't help it!" she retorted. "I can't stop it!"

There was some blood and a good bit of pale membranes protruding between her legs, and he had no idea what it meant. Kirk swallowed hard. "Faye, sweetheart, something's comin' out of ya."

"What is it? The head?" She was too petrified to reach down and try to feel for herself.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I don't know what it is. Oh, gosh." He tentatively pressed the cloth between her legs out of pure instinct.

"No! Don't touch!" she cried. He snapped the cloth away. "Get Dr. Mike. Right now. Kirk, move!"

"All right. All right. Don't push. Don't do anything. I'll be back in a jiffy." He kissed her back and then scrambled across the room and out the door.

"It's cold. I don't want to," Byron whimpered as Michaela massaged some icy bath water onto his chest.

"I know it's cold. I know," she said sympathetically. "Just a few more minutes."

He clutched the side of the tub and moaned quietly as tears slipped down his cheeks.

"Sweetheart, don't cry. Oh." She kissed his head. "This'll make your asthma feel better. I'm sorry. Just, be brave a minute longer, hm?" She rubbed some of the water across his back. Byron certainly had had a rough day, and she felt terrible. First he had to go to Andrew's and endure more tiring treatments there, then she had to shut him away in his room so she and Martha could disinfect the house after exposing him to pneumonia, and now she was forcing him to take a very uncomfortable bath. It was no wonder he had reached his breaking point.

"Here, Byron, look," Martha said as she entered the room from behind the screens with a little wooden toy boat. "I found your boat. See here."

He hiccupped, clutching the boat to his chest. "Martha, it's so cold. Tell Mama to stop."

She held his hand and rubbed the back of it. "Hush now. It's almost over. Your mother knows what's best. She's the very best doctor a young man like you could hope for."

"Yeah. Martha, don't leave," Byron whispered tearfully. "Hold my hand. I don't want you to ever leave me."

"Yes, dearie. I'm holding your hand. I'm holding your hand as long as you want," she said.

He stopped crying and squeezed her hand as tightly as he could.

"There, you see? We're all through. Out of the tub," Michaela said, standing up and giving Byron a hand out.

Martha immediately took over drying him off. She wrapped him in a thick towel, tickled his chin and whispered something to him that made him giggle and soon he was his cheerful self again. She helped him into his nightshift and socks and combed his hair neatly while Michaela cleaned up from the bath. Then Martha sat Byron in a chair close to the fire and set to work making him a cup of tea.

"Claudette doesn't need you tonight, Martha?" Michaela asked casually as she folded up the screens. Sully and Elizabeth were in the dining room with the other children, helping Katie and Red Eagle finish their homework.

"No, miss," Martha said as she filled up a kettle at the pump. "Well, she did give me several errands to run. But I finished this afternoon while you were at Dr. Cook's."

"Oh," Michaela murmured. She walked over to Byron and kissed his forehead lovingly. "I'm sorry that bath was so cold. Mama's read a lot about asthma and she thinks cold baths will help."

"You're the doctor," he said sweetly.

Michaela chuckled and kissed him again. "Do you want to go upstairs and read a book together? Hm?"

He beamed and nodded just as someone pounded on the door. Kirk threw it open without waiting for a reply.

"This is it!" he announced frantically.

"What's it?" Red Eagle asked, putting down his pencil.

"My buckboard's waitin' outside, Dr. Mike," Kirk said. "Hurry, this is it!"

Michaela took off her damp kitchen apron and walked to the door. "All right. Just stay calm, Kirk. I'm coming."

"But what's it?" Red Eagle questioned again.

"The baby, silly," Katie explained. "Faye's having the baby."

Red Eagle's eyes widened. "She is? Mama, hurry!"

Sully got up and took down his jacket. "I better come, too."

"But Byron. I want you to stay with him," Michaela protested as she found her medical bag.

"Martha's here, and your ma. He'll be fine," he said.

"Yes, we can handle him," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, of course we can," Martha said. "You both go on. Don't worry about a thing."

Michaela reluctantly glanced in Martha's direction. "All right, well, just give him his tea and make sure he gets back to bed straight away. I love you, sweetheart. Listen to Grandma."

Byron frowned. "Mama, what about our book? You said."

"I'm sorry. We'll have to do it another time. We will. I promise."

"I'll read to you, dearie," Martha said. "Anything you like."

His frown disappeared at once. "Oh, good. Thanks, Martha. You do good voices."

"Dr. Mike," Kirk said impatiently. "Faye. This is it."

She smiled and touched his arm. "All right, let's go."

Faye gently hit Kirk in the chest with her fist. "Where were you?" she muttered.

"I'm sorry, honey. I'm sorry. I drove fast as I could without killin' myself."

"You're a terrible driver," she griped as Michaela sat on the edge of the bed and listened to the baby's heartbeat.

"Faye? How close are your contractions coming?" Michaela asked, putting her stethoscope back in her bag.

"Oh, Lord. I don't know. Too close."

Michaela washed her hands with some carbolic acid. "Just let your knees fall apart and relax. Let's see how far along you are." She performed a quick exam while Kirk looked on anxiously. "Oh. Faye, your water bag's still intact. Is it all right if I break it? I think the baby will be born right away if we do."

"All right, if you want. Go ahead," she murmured.

"All right," Michaela said with a soft smile as she grabbed a towel and opened her medical bag.

"It won't hurt, will it?" Kirk asked nervously.

"No. It'll help her feel better. It'll ease some of the pressure."

"Oh, good," Faye muttered.

"Are you ready to be a papa again, Kirk?" Michaela asked.

He smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

"Good, because you're about to." Michaela grasped the protruding membranes between her thumb and forefinger and punctured the bag easily. Murky, green-tinted fluid spilled onto the towel. Michaela's face fell and Kirk immediately noticed.

"What's wrong? What?" he demanded.

"Oh, no, I'm havin' one," Faye blurted helplessly. "Dr. Mike, what do I do?"

"It's all right. Just bear down if you're having one. Let's have a baby," Michaela said as she frantically searched through her medical bag for more clean cloths and her bulb syringe.

"Push, baby," Kirk said as he stroked his wife's forehead. "Push, honey."

Michaela pressed one hand to the baby's head as it eased forward. "Here it is," she said. "Just push gently. Not too hard."

Faye looked at her skeptically. "Gently! I can't!"

"Yes, you can, honey. You're doin' great," Kirk said.

"Kirk, hush up!" she retorted.

"All right," he whispered.

"Faye, I need you to listen to me. This is important," Michaela said. "When the baby's head comes out I'm going to ask you to stop pushing so I can suction the mouth and nose."

"I can't," she muttered.

"Yes you can. Pant instead if you want to push. I need to suction your baby as much as possible before it starts to breathe."

"What's wrong?" Kirk demanded.

"It's, um, there was a lot of meconium when I broke your water. That's the baby's first bowel movement? It can be very dangerous if the baby inhales any of it."

Faye let out a little sob. "Is it gonna be all right? Oh, Kirk."

"The heartbeat's fine. Everything else is fine," Michaela said. "But I'm afraid we're going to need to monitor the baby carefully once it's here."

Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Oh, my God. Kirk."

"It's gonna be fine," he said helplessly. "Dr. Mike's got it."

Faye screeched and grabbed Kirk's shirt.

"One thing at a time. Bear down and deliver your baby," Michaela said. She kept her left hand on the baby's head to guide it out and kept the bulb syringe ready in her right hand.

Faye took a deep breath and bore down hard.

"There you are, sweetheart," Michaela murmured as the baby's head slipped into her hand, tearing Faye deeply in the process and sending a pool of blood onto the towel.

"Oh, honey. Oh, gosh," Kirk said, leaning forward a little to see. "The baby's head!"

"Is it out?" Faye demanded.

"Almost. Just a little push for the chin.. All right, stop! Stop!" Michaela said as she quickly inserted the bulb syringe between the baby's lips. "Pant, pant, pant."

"Pant, honey. Pant," Kirk instructed. "Dr. Mike's cleaning its mouth out."

"Oh, my God. It's still coming!" Faye cried.

"No, no," Michaela said as she worked all the faster to suction the baby. "Don't push. Pant. Pant."

Kirk held Faye's hands tightly and looked her in the eyes. "Pant. You can do it."

Faye panted with all her might and tried to hold back, but the baby's shoulders slipped free anyway and the rest of the baby immediately followed.

"Oh," Michaela murmured. She held the baby at an angle so the fluid could drain and continued her deep suctioning.

"There it is! Oh, darlin', look!" Kirk said as he caressed Faye's cheek and kissed her. "Oh, good job, baby."

"I'm sorry. It just came out," Faye said hoarsely. "I wasn't even pushing."

"It's all right. I know," Michaela spoke up. She wiped more murky fluid from the baby's face and continued suctioning out its mouth and nose.

"Oh, gosh, what a beautiful baby. He's beautiful, honey," Kirk said in wonder. "Look at that. Honey, he's here!"

"He? It's a boy?" she said, perking up. She lifted her head a little, trying to see.

"I don't know. Is it a boy, Dr. Mike?"

Michaela smiled. "Oh, yes. It's a boy. You can hold him in just a moment, all right?"

The baby whimpered a little and scrunched up his face. He gagged on the bulb syringe and let out a tiny wail.

"Oh, there's a cry," Kirk said excitedly. "Hey, baby boy. Oh."

"It looks like it's hurtin' him," Faye spoke up worriedly. "All that suctioning. Oh."

Michaela glanced up. "I don't typically like to suction this much unless there's meconium. Unfortunately I think it's necessary."

"All right, I trust you," Faye said tearfully. She held Kirk's hand and tried to be patient as Michaela finished working on the baby. After what felt like hours but was in truth only a few minutes, Michaela put the bulb syringe aside and laid the little boy up on his mother's belly.

"There you are. Hold him. Talk to him," Michaela encouraged as she did a cursory examination of Faye's injuries and placed a fresh towel beneath her. She found a cloth and pressed it against the wound.

Faye groaned softly. "Did I tear real bad, Dr. Mike?"

"Well, it's a good one. You'll need some stitches. I'm just going to put some pressure on it, all right? It hurts, I know."

Faye swallowed hard against the pain and gazed at the infant. "Hey, baby. Oh. Hey. You tore me good."

"Hey, little guy," Kirk said tearfully. "We're glad to see ya. Oh, Faye, you did so good, honey." He smiled at her and kissed her again.

Faye and Kirk forgot for a moment anything was wrong and just admired their new baby. Michaela allowed them to enjoy it for the time being as she laid a blanket over the new child and then listened to his lungs with her stethoscope. His breathing was decidedly labored. He was grunting every few breaths or so and his color was too pale and dusky for her liking, his fingers and toes a light shade of blue. Despite her best efforts the baby was still retaining a lot of amniotic fluid in his lungs, and chances were, meconium. "I'll be right back," she said, patting Faye's arm and standing up.

She walked across the room and opened the front door, shutting it behind her. "Sully?"

He stood up, arms folded against the cool night air. "How they doin'? Baby here?"

"Yes. Faye's all right. But the baby's having some respiratory problems."

"What kinda problems?"

"He may have inhaled some bacteria into his lungs. It can develop into pneumonia very rapidly. I need to stay with Faye at the moment. She's going to need stitches. But could you bring Andrew out? I'm afraid the baby needs to be in a hospital right now. The best thing to do is monitor him at Andrew's clinic."

"Yeah, sure. I'll get him right now," he said.

"Get Dorothy, too. She can stay with Faye. I'm going to need to go with the baby."

"All right." He climbed up into their wagon.

"Hurry, Sully," she replied.

Andrew pressed his stethoscope to the baby's lungs and listened pensively. The infant was dozing on Faye's chest contentedly. Faye tenderly stroked his little wisps of hair and talked to him quietly, while Kirk stood by and watched the two doctors worriedly. Dorothy was heating some water on their little stove and Sully was waiting by the door poised to help wherever needed.

At last Andrew stepped back and glanced at Michaela. "We need to examine him with a laryngoscope."

"Yes," she said. "And I was thinking we could do some deep suctioning using the endotracheal tube."

"Important thing is to prevent a pneumothorax," he added.

"Talk English," Kirk suddenly spoke up impatiently. "What's wrong with our baby?"

"Kirk, honey," Faye scolded.

"Kirk, at the moment he seems all right," Michaela said. "He's working a little harder than we'd like to see to breathe, but he's improving. What we're trying to do now is prevent any complications from the meconium he inhaled."

"What kind of complications?"

"Well, there's a small risk one or both of his lungs could collapse. We need to guard against that."

"And he's also at a greater risk for pneumonia," Andrew explained. "I have special instruments at my clinic we can use to help him. We'd like to transport the baby there."

Faye clutched the baby tightly. "No. No, you said his breathin's gettin' better."

Michaela stepped toward the bed and squeezed her arm. "Faye, sometimes babies show no ill effects after inhaling meconium. And other times, very serious complications result. Sometimes even death. As your baby's doctor I must advise we take him to Andrew's clinic immediately. I know you don't want to be separated from him, but we need to play it safe and take every precaution."

Faye glanced at Kirk emotionally. "Oh, Kirk. We better do what they say."

"Everything's gonna be fine, honey. They'll take good care of him."

"Go with him. You stay with him, honey, all right? Go with Jack," she said.

"Sure. I'll go with him," he replied.

" � Jack?" Michaela whispered.

Faye smiled softly. "That's what we're gonna call him."

Kirk glanced at Michaela and Sully. "A long time ago, we said if we ever had a son, we wanted to name him after your little boy. In his memory. If it's still all right with you."

Michaela shared a soft smile with Sully.

"Of course it is. We're honored," Michaela said at last.

"Both of us," Sully added.

The baby grunted a few times on Faye's chest, his little arms limp up beside his head. "We should take him now," Michaela said gently. "We'll do everything we can for him, Faye. I promise, all right?"

Faye kissed the baby's cheek tearfully. "Go with Dr. Mike, Jack. It's gonna be all right, darlin'. She's the best doctor around."

"More suction," Michaela instructed

"He looks clear now," Andrew said as he pulled back once more on the syringe. "I'm not seeing any more fluid."

Michaela took out her stethoscope again and listened to Jack's lungs for a long moment. Then she gestured for Andrew to do the same. The baby was in just a diaper and wiggling in the center of Andrew's leather examination table, a rubber tube in his throat.

Andrew smiled with relief. "Lungs sound a lot better. I don't hear anything."

Michaela nodded in agreement. "Would you like to remove the endotracheal tube?"

"He's your patient," Andrew replied. "You do it."

She nodded and positioned herself at the head of the examination table, grasped the end of the tube and carefully slipped it from the baby's throat. The infant gagged and then burst into fierce cries.

"Shh, shh, that wasn't so bad," Michaela soothed. "You want to see your papa now? Hush."

"I'll go get Kirk," Andrew said, putting his stethoscope aside and heading out the door.

Kirk rushed into the room a moment later. "How is he? He all right?"

Michaela wrote on the baby's chart. "Well, we need to keep him here for at least twenty-four hours. And there's still a possibility he could develop pneumonia. But so far he looks very good."

"We're optimistic," Andrew added.

Kirk stroked the baby's head. "Hey, Jack. How ya doin'? Dr. Mike take good care of ya? Don't worry, you'll be home real soon."

Martha hummed to herself as she gathered the eggs in the henhouse. She nearly shook with surprise when she spotted Byron standing in the doorway, looking very distressed.

"Dearie? You're not supposed to be in the barn."

"I know. I�m outside the barn."

Martha walked toward him, tucking the basket under her arm. "What's wrong? Your asthma?"

"Martha?"

"Yes?"

"Have you ever done something really bad?"

"Bad? You mean made a mistake? Of course I have. All people make mistakes. It's how we learn."

He bent his head solemnly. "Not just a mistake. Something so bad that � "

She caressed his shoulder. "That what, dearie?"

"So bad that nobody would ever, ever forgive you? And hate you forever?"

She eyed him curiously. "Byron? Is there something you want to talk about?"

"Yeah. Kinda. But it's just, I can't."

"Oh, I see." She put her arm around him. "You know, you have a lot of people in your life who love you and care about you. There's nothing you can't say to your mother and father. Your grandmother. And even me. Nothing." She squeezed his shoulder. "You have lots of people who will listen if there's ever anything on your mind."

Byron bent his head. He knew that was true, that his family loved him and cared about what he had to say. But Martha didn't understand. This was the one thing he just couldn't tell. He so wished he could confide in Martha that he and Red Eagle were playing with matches and just get it off his chest to someone. But he was sure she would tell his mother.

"Cheer up, dearie. It can't be that bad. Want to help me carry in the eggs and cook breakfast?"

He nodded silently and took the basket from her.

"You're my most favorite, special helper," Martha remarked cheerfully.

"Me, too," Byron whispered.

Preston led his father down the hot springs decks. Claudette followed behind them petulantly.

"As you can see, I've since added another bathing area."

"Yes, yes, lovely," Preston's father remarked. "Well done."

"You really should take some time to relax in the hot springs while you're here, Father," Preston said. "It's most rejuvenating."

"Yes, it is," Claudette added helpfully.

"Yes, I may. I may."

"The clinic. Over this way," Preston instructed, leading him around the side of the building.

Preston Sr. clutched his cane. "What about � what about cholera and dysentery and all those other terrible disease?"

"Oh, no, Father. This is a wellness clinic."

"Wellness clinic?"

"Yes, Andrew and I pioneered the concept. Well, I did most of it. You come here to improve your overall health to prevent such diseases in the first place. No, we never allow such a thing. That's what Michaela's for. No, most of our patients ailments are fairly easy to cure."

"Yes, that's what Michaela's for," Claudette said. "She keeps it all away from us."

"Yes, most definitely," Preston said. "Why, I would say the average patient is male, fifty-five years old, arthritis in the knees and shortness of breath. Ideal candidate for Andrew's exercise regiment and tonics and the hotel hot springs. Frankly, Michaela isn't even really allowed on the premises," he added.

Preston glanced at the rather dilapidated wagon parked outside the clinic in confusion. He had seen it somewhere before, but couldn't place it. He opened the door.

Andrew was washing down his examination table while Michaela stood beside Kirk, who was holding Danielle. Faye was sitting in a chair, buttoning up her blouse with one hand, holding her new infant in her other arm and looking a little distressed. Danielle looked down at her baby brother distrustfully, her fingers in her mouth.

"It's all right, that's normal," Michaela said. "Byron did that, too. You just have to be patient with him and he'll get used to the breast. It just may take him a few tries."

"Andrew!" Preston hissed, eyes wide.

"Preston," Andrew said, whipping around. "Excuse me, I'm with a patient."

"Mr. Lodge," Michaela blurted. "What are you doing here?"

"What? This is my clinic. What are you doing here?" he replied. He gestured for Andrew. "Outside please, Dr. Cook. Right now?"

Andrew glanced at Faye apologetically. "Excuse me."

Preston slammed the door behind him.

"What's going on here?" Preston demanded in a whisper, completely flustered.

Andrew dried his hands off on a cloth apathetically. "What does it look like?"

Preston was livid now. "Andrew, stop playing around and explain all this."

"Mrs. Davis had her baby last night. He's had some difficulty breathing and needed to be in a hospital. Michaela had no choice but to bring him here."

"You know how I feel about Michaela's patients."

"Yes, I do. But her clinic burned down."

"So you already gave her some of our supplies."

Andrew looked a little apprehensive. "Oh, well, I-"

"It's all right, Andrew. I know you did it. I look at the books." He glanced at his father helplessly. "A little charity from time to time is good for business."

"Yes, quite," he replied.

"Preston, what was she supposed to do? That baby could have died if he didn't come here."

"You tell her to leave, Andrew. Her and her patients. Treat them at home, go to Denver. I don't know. It's not our concern." He glanced at his father proudly. Preston the second gave him an encouraging nod.

"I can't do that. It would violate the Hippocratic oath," Andrew said.

"The Hippo--Yes you will do it. Andrew, that's an order. If you don't, you're fired."

"If you make them go, I'll quit," Andrew said simply, turning around, opening the door and closing it behind him.

"Rebellious employee you have there, Preston," his father said with a soft chuckle. "Not good."

Preston was nearly red with embarrassment. "He � He's a little young, doesn't know his place yet. We're working on it."

"Long way to go with that boy. Didn't you say you have a pool table now? I'd like to see it."

"It's in the lounge," Preston said.

"Good. Let's have a game." He smiled and headed back to the hotel.

"Preston," Claudette said quietly, holding his arm.

"What?" he muttered.

"Well, it's not so bad if the girl and her infant just stay there out of sight today, is it?"

He eyed her with astonishment.

"No, I think it's entirely inappropriate for Michaela to bring patients here, believe me. But that little friend of hers doesn't have a disease. She had a baby, that's all. She's not hurting anything."

"I know that," he murmured. "It's just, my father."

"Oh, don't worry about your father. Don't worry about him." She gave his cheek a sweet kiss. "I know he's important to you. But � given what I've seen of him, I'm not sure if he's someone you can ever please."

"I have to try," he said, increasing his pace.

"Why?" she replied. "What does it matter anymore? Preston, for heaven sake you're forty-five years old."

"You don't understand," he replied. "Why don't you go enjoy the hot springs? Women never appreciate billiards." He hurried back to the hotel to join his father, leaving her standing there.

"Pay up, son," Preston Sr. said as they headed to the front desk. "I beat you fair and square."

Preston opened his billfold begrudgingly and took out a ten dollar bill.

Preston Sr. held it up to the light. "Thank you. Well, I think I'll retire to my room to rest before supper."

"Sleep well, Father," Preston said. He leaned on his desk with a big sigh, burying his forehead behind one hand. He glanced up as someone opened the front door. Michaela was the last person he wanted to see.

She walked up to the desk tentatively, wearing her medical apron.

"What are you doing here?" he muttered.

"I was � I was wondering if I could use your washroom? If you don't mind."

He heaved another sigh. "Fine. It's through the parlor."

She rested one hand on the desk. "Preston, I just wanted to thank you for opening your clinic up to Faye and I-"

"Michaela? Not now," he said sternly.

She sighed and then headed off past the desk and through the parlor. The Chateau water closet was as elaborate as everything else in the hotel, with a porcelain flush toilet and heavy dark oak mirror. Michaela used the toilet, washed her hands in the gold plated basin and then headed up the staircase for Claudette's room.

She rapped on the door.

"Come in," Claudette replied. She was pinning up her hair after a dip in the hot springs. "Oh, Michaela. How's the girl and her new baby?"

"Doing fine. They're resting. Is Preston all right? He seemed rather upset just now."

Claudette rolled her eyes. "Oh, who knows?"

"I'm sorry this all caused some kind of rift between Preston and Andrew. I didn't mean to start trouble."

"Trouble started ages ago, Michaela. Oh, I'm so over this entire thing," Claudette muttered. "Preston's father, the loan, the lot of it."

Michaela sat on the bed. "I'm sure it hasn't been easy. Planning a wedding amidst all this."

"Preston's father just has this whole unrealistic idea for how he wants Preston to be. Marry a nice young Protestant woman and have five sons just like he did. Well, I hate to break it to him but that's never going to be. But Preston keeps trying to please him. To what end, I ask?"

"Well, perhaps you could compromise a little. Why, you could always adopt a child."

Claudette chuckled in disbelief. "Adopt? Us?"

"Yes, why not? There's so many children out there without a mother and father. And you and Preston could give a child such a privileged life."

"Adopt," Claudette echoed pensively. "Well, I suppose I never considered it."

"Preston's father is just mourning the fact that he's not getting an heir from Preston. If you adopted perhaps he'd feel better." She sighed blissfully. "And there's nothing more rewarding than raising a child together with the man you love."

"Hmm, well, thank you for your perspective, Michaela. Don't you have a patient to attend to?"

Michaela smiled and got up. "I'll see you later."

Sully opened the front door tiredly and guided Michaela inside. Jack Davis was almost two days old, home now and thriving. Michaela would need to check on him daily for at least the first week, but so far everything looked just fine.

She put her medical bag on the table and took off her jacket as Martha came down the stairs cheerfully.

"Oh, Miss Michaela, you're back," she called. "I was prepared to spend another night!"

"I'm sorry you had to stay with the children for so long, Martha," Michaela said. "I couldn't leave my patient. I hope they weren't being disobedient."

"Not at all, dearie. They were wonderful."

"Byron's asthma?"

"Barely a cough the entire time. I gave him another cold bath and we did his treatments twice a day."

"Homework?" Michaela asked skeptically.

"Done for the rest of the week," Martha said with a smile. "They all got As on their mathematics tests today. Perfect papers."

"Byron got an A, too?" Michaela said, glancing at Sully skeptically.

"Yes, dearie. I hung it up in the kitchen for you to see. He was so proud!"

"Oh. Well, good," Michaela said, though her heart wasn't really in it. Mathematics was one of Byron's worst subjects, and he had never been able to achieve a perfect score no matter how much Michaela tried to help him. It was disconcerting to think that after only a few study sessions with Martha his grades had suddenly soared. She wanted to be happy his schoolwork had improved, but she couldn't help being a little envious that Martha apparently worked so well with him.

"Listen to me carry on. You both must be bushed. I'll turn down your bed and heat the bed warmer," Martha said, spinning around.

"No need for that, Martha," Sully said. "You go on back to the hotel and get some rest yourself."

"Martha, where's Mother?" Michaela asked.

"I tucked her in as well," Martha said with a soft chuckle. "Goodnight, Miss Michaela. Mr. Sully."

"Goodnight. Thank you," Sully said.

" � Yes, thank you," Michaela whispered.

"She's right. They were fast asleep," Sully said as he shut the bedroom door.

Michaela was already curled up in bed under the covers. She swallowed hard and didn't reply.

Sully pulled off his boots and climbed in bed beside her.

"Byron wasn't wheezin' at all. Sleepin' real sound," he added.

Michaela pulled the covers up a little higher.

"Hey, Dr. Mike?" Sully whispered.

She met his eyes reluctantly.

"I tell you what a good job you did deliverin' that baby, savin' his life?" He smiled and caressed her cheek just as a fat tear spilled down her cheek. His smile faded. "Michaela, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry," she said unsteadily as the tears suddenly spilled in droves. "I'm sorry."

"Michaela? Talk to me." He took a deep breath. "Is it about what they named the baby? Callin' him Jack?" He rubbed her arm. "It's all right to have mixed feelins about that. I know I did at first."

"No. Yes. I mean, I do have mixed feelings. A little."

"Ya know, way I see it, this is a nice way for Jack's memory to live on," Sully said. "Nice way for friends of ours to honor him. Hey, maybe it's time we paid another visit to his grave. Been awhile. We could bring some flowers."

"Sully, it's not that. Not exactly. They should name their baby whatever they want. I don't know, it's everything. My clinic burning down and not really knowing how it happened, having to wait weeks and weeks just so the circuit judge can come to town to sort this all out. Preston turning down our loan because of some irrational need to look good in front of his father. Having to practice medicine out of our own house and exposing Byron to God knows what. My patients. Sully, that baby could have died. And all because I didn't have the right instruments and medical supplies."

"So ya took him to Andrew's. He was fine."

"And what if Andrew wasn�t there?"

"He was."

"It's reckless of me to take on patients I'm not equipped to treat. I could be sued for malpractice if anything went wrong. And then we'd be even worse off than we are now." She shook her head. "And the children. How did my mother watch Martha raise my sisters and I? Martha does everything so perfectly. How as a mother can you watch a nanny look after your children better than you can?"

"Michaela, Martha ain't perfect. Nobody is."

"This is everything I never wanted for my family. I promised myself when I had children, things would be different." She met his eyes. "Not that my childhood wasn't good. I just � as much as I adored Martha, still do, deep down I really wanted my mother."

"Course ya did," Sully murmured.

"Oh, Sully. I just don't know what to do. I feel like a failure."

"Hey, you ain't a failure," Sully said. "You're a beautiful ma. Michaela, our kids worship ya, don't ya know that?"

She sniffled. "Truly?"

"Course they do. Listen, just 'cause Martha's a good nanny don't got anything to do with you as a mother." He squeezed her hand. "Ya know, I think this is somethin' ya need to talk to your ma about. Sounds like there's things in your childhood you never really talked out with her. I think ya gotta do that first before ya can work this all out with Martha."

"I feel so terribly selfish," she murmured. "I should be happy they have a good nanny to look after them when I can't. Instead I'm just � I'm jealous. You were right."

"I'd say there's nothin' selfish about lovin' your kids so much ya worry this much about 'em." He rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. "Hey. Know what I was thinkin' when I was courtin' ya?"

"Hm?"

"I watched ya with Matthew and Colleen and Brian. The way ya really listened to them, talked to 'em, took care of all their needs, helped guide 'em. And I kept thinkin', that's the woman I want to have a family with. I want her to be my son or daughter's ma. I already knew before we ever had a baby together how good you were gonna be at it."

She smiled. "That's really what you were thinking?"

He nodded and kissed her softly. "Michaela, talk to your ma. She just might appreciate ya get this off your chest."

She sighed. "All right. I will."

"As for everything else, I promise you we're gonna rebuild your practice the way it used to be. Every cent's gonna go to that from here on out."

"You really think we can rebuild it ourselves?" she said skeptically. "Realistically?"

"You and me together, when have we ever failed at somethin'?" he replied with a soft smile.

She smiled, reassured.

"Meantime though, ya need your sleep. Ya been on your feet two days."

"I'm glad you came with me. You didn't have to."

He wrapped her in his arms. "I wanted to."

"A list, Martha," Claudette instructed as she buzzed around her room. "The boys suits need to be taken to the tailor as soon as possible. Can you do it tomorrow?"

Martha tiredly sat at the table and wrote down what Claudette asked.

"Martha?" Claudette said. "Martha!"

"Yes, mum?" she asked, looking up.

"The tailor. Can you bring the suits to him tomorrow?"

"Oh! Yes, mum."

"Good. And the new furniture for the hotel is coming in on Thursday's train. I want all of the staff Mr. Lodge can spare at the train station to meet it and bring it here. Arrange it with Mr. Lodge." She sighed pensively. "Oh, and send a telegram to Mollie. Find out if she's still coming on the tenth. We need her here right away for her fittings and the rehearsal, so don't let her walk all over you." She glanced at the chambermaid. Her eyes were closed and her head was falling. "Martha? Martha!"

Martha shook with a start and opened her eyes. She resumed writing on the list.

"What on earth is the matter with you?" Claudette demanded. "You were falling asleep! Martha, this is very important!"

Martha cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, mum. I�m just a little tired. I've been looking after the children every moment for nearly three days."

"I daresay my wedding is of a bit more consequence than whatever is going on with those silly children!" she cried. "Martha, priorities. Please."

"Yes, mum. It's just-" She paused. The devil in her wanted to remind Claudette it was her idea in the first place to be Michaela's nanny and it was technically her fault she was so tired. Not that she didn't just adore Michaela's little ones. In fact they had made living out here just delightful. But being a nanny and Claudette's full-time chambermaid too was very difficult. For some reason Claudette liked to pretend she only needed Martha a few hours out of the day. But the truth was Martha was at her beck and call every waking moment. And now sometimes, when she was even asleep. Between that and the demands of Michaela's children, Martha was feeling quite exhausted. But she was too kind and agreeable to protest. She had never once complained in her fifty years working for the Quinns, and she wasn't about to start now. Complaining, she knew well, was what got servants fired in the Quinn household. "No, mum. I mean, yes, mum."

Claudette heaved a giant sigh. "Well, I suppose we can do this in the morning. If we wake early. But this is all very inconvenient, Martha. I hope you realize that."

"Yes, mum."

"Go. Go to bed," Claudette ordered. "You're useless to me in this state anyway."

Martha smiled sheepishly and got up with a curtsey. "Goodnight, mum. Thank you."

"You're welcome," Claudette said, taking a seat and opening a women's magazine on the table.

"Wrap those up real careful, Brian," Anna Marie instructed, handing him another stack of old Gazettes. "They're gonna have to travel a lot of miles."

"Sure thing," Brian said quietly. He covered another china plate in newspaper and stacked it in the crate. Nearby, Sarah was folding up some petticoats and placing them in a trunk. They had been helping her mother pack up for her move back East all day now, and were finally making some real progress. Boxes and crates and trunks were everywhere, filled to the brim with clothes and dishware and other items.

"I don't know if I'm going to be able to sell the house before I leave," Anna Marie said. "I've had a notice posted at the train station for awhile now. Not one person's stopped by. I s'pose I'll have to have Mr. Lodge take care of it once I move."

"We could help you with it, Mama," Sarah said. "We could take care of it."

"Sure," Brian said.

"Then I take it you two aren't coming with me," she said softly.

Sarah glanced at Brian and didn't say anything. He just wrapped another plate and concentrated on his work.

"I think there's some more newspaper out back," Anna Marie said softly. "I'll get it."

"It's not too late to change your mind," Sarah murmured as she folded a pair of stockings. "You don't wanna even consider this?"

He sighed. "Sarah, now ain't the time."

"You're always puttin' off this discussion, Brian," she said impatiently. "Just when exactly are we gonna talk about it?"

He turned to face her. "All right, we'll talk about it now if that's what ya want. I think it's a bad idea, always have."

"Couldn't we just try it?" she pleaded. "Just try it out there for a year or two. If you really hate it I promise we'll come back to Colorado."

"Sarah, I know you. Once we move out there you'll never wanna move back. I know how much ya love Georgia."

"Well, forgive me for feeling some ties to my roots."

"It's not just about your roots. It's our roots now. Colorado Springs is where we built a life together. We met here, fell in love here. We have everything goin' for us here."

She softened a little and stepped toward him. "And I treasure those roots. I treasure all the places we spent time together, fell in love with each other." She chuckled softly. "I still have that scarf your silly dog tore up outside your ma's clinic. I'll always remember that Christmas."

"Fifi?" he murmured. He smiled. "I almost forgot about that."

"But Brian, don't you see? Those are memories we'll carry with us in our hearts forever. It's not tied to any one place. The clinic isn't even there any more. It's just in our memory now. But fact is, my ma needs me."

"Maybe you're havin' a hard time lettin' go of how things used to be," he said.

She narrowed her brow. "What do you mean?"

"Your ma's all you've had since you were a kid. Maybe it's been hard for ya to get used to being married to me, havin' me be your partner now. Just didn't know your ma was part of our marriage, too. It's a little crowded."

She put the stockings in the trunk. "I don't know why you always have to say hurtful things like that. Of course you're my priority. You're my husband. Of course you come before anybody else. Includin' my mama."

"Don't feel that way lately," he muttered. He glanced at the clock. "Gettin' late. We should head home. Chores to take care of."

"I, um, I was thinking maybe I should spend a few days here," Sarah said softly, averting her eyes. "You know, help Mama out. There's so much to be done."

"Here? Ya mean, ya ain't comin' home tonight?"

"She shouldn't lift a finger really what with her rheumatism. She needs my help as much as I can." She swallowed. "Just for a few days."

He rested one hand on the table. He had a feeling this was Sarah's way of forcing them to spend some time apart under the guise of helping her mother. But deep down he knew that time apart might be good for them right now. "Yeah," he murmured unsteadily. "Yeah, that's a good idea. What do ya need from the homestead? I'll bring it on over."

"No. No, that's all right. I have a nightgown here somewhere. That's all I need."

"All right. Well, I, I best be headin' back. Chores."

She nodded.

He stepped toward her and gave her cheek a gentle kiss. "Goodnight."

"Night, Brian," she whispered emotively.