For personal use and select distribution only © by Becky 2008

Sully pulled the wagon up to the homestead and gave Michaela a hand down to the ground.

She looked up at him, a little perplexed. "Sully, you know, you don't have to come along with me on every house call," she said, grabbing her medical bag off the floor.

"Wanted to see the baby again," he said casually.

"You just saw him yesterday. He can't have changed that much."

"I'll unhitch the wagon," he said, glancing at the dark sky. "Storm's brewin'. Best get inside."

She raised her eyebrows and turned, heading up the stairs and opening the front door. Elizabeth was just finishing a cup of tea.

"Oh, you're back early. How's Faye and the baby?" Elizabeth asked.

Michaela hung up her jacket. "Nursing wonderfully now and doing just fine."

"Oh, good. I'll have to send them a gift."

"That would be nice of you, Mother. I'm going to pack up some of Eliza's infant clothes tonight." She glanced around the room. "Where is Eliza, by the way?"

"Oh, Martha took her to town. She said she'll pick up the children from school."

"Oh, dear. I wanted her to bring their rain jackets. It looks like it's going to storm."

Elizabeth smiled. "She has them. And an umbrella, too. Don't worry."

Michaela slowly sighed. "Oh. I suppose Martha's always prepared, isn't she?"

"The best nanny in all of Boston. I used to brag to everyone. Tea, dear? Let me get you a cup."

Michaela rested one hand on the table. "No, that's all right. Mother? Could I ask you something about Martha?"

Elizabeth looked up at her questioningly. "What about her?"

"Well, she helped you raise my sisters and I. She did so much for us. Did you ever feel, well, jealous?"

"Jealous?" She chuckled. "Of course. All the time."

"You did?" Michaela said with surprise.

"Yes, every mother on Beacon Hill does I'm sure. But any jealousy one feels towards one's nanny is something that polite women don't speak about. Are you sure you don't want some tea, dear? It's getting chilly out."

"Perhaps I will have a cup."

"I'll get it. Sit down." Elizabeth got up with her cane and headed to the kitchen.

"So, you never said anything to Martha then?" Michaela called, taking a seat. "I mean, about feeling jealous."

"No! You don't discuss such a thing with the servants! What would I say?" Elizabeth replied with another chuckle. She reentered the room with a cup and saucer.

"Well, I don't know. Perhaps she didn't have to live with us. Perhaps she could have gone home to her own home at the end of the day. Perhaps she didn't need to stay with me on Saturday and Sundays, too. You could have told her you wanted to spend more time with us."

"Your father would never stand for that. He always said I couldn't control the girls all by myself. Especially you. She kept you from destroying the house. I truly needed her I'm afraid."

"Father said that? That's silly, yes you could have. You could have looked after me just fine."

"Well, no matter. You didn't want to be with me anyway."

Michaela's face fell. "What? Yes, I did."

Elizabeth filled her cup with tea from the warm kettle on the table. "No you didn't, my dear. You always wanted Martha, remember?"

"Well, I suppose I did want Martha sometimes," Michaela admitted. "But that's because I could really depend on her. She was always there."

"Precisely. And so you preferred her. It was bound to happen. I learned to just let you be. Not interrupt you when Martha was with you even if I would have liked to see you."

"That's why you left me with Martha so much?" Michaela said. "Because you thought I preferred her? Mother, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was giving you that impression."

"Well, it's all over and done with so why rehash it all? I was terrible at raising the five of you, we all know so. Can't we just enjoy our tea and not think about it?"

"Oh, Mother. Stop it."

"Well, at least I'm trying to be a good Grandma."

Michaela smiled and patted her hand. "You're a wonderful Grandma." She took a sip of her tea. Something was very comforting about knowing her mother had mixed feelings about Martha, too. It made her feel more normal. And it felt good to know her mother had at least wanted to spend time with her when she was growing up, but just didn't quite know how. She only wished she and Elizabeth hadn't spent so many years unable to communicate properly. "I'm so glad we had this talk," she added. "Thank you."

Elizabeth sighed. "Well, your talks are always rather unnerving. But if you say so."

Michaela smiled wider just as Matthew opened the door, Sully behind him.

"Afternoon, Dr. Mike. Gran'ma," Matthew said.

"Matthew, won't you have some tea?" Michaela said.

"Can't stay long. Just wanted to let you know telegram from the circuit judge just came in. He'll be here next Friday."

"Oh, finally this can be over," Elizabeth said.

Michaela glanced at Sully. "Thank you, Matthew. That's a relief."

"He'll need ya to testify," Matthew replied. "Just want ya to be prepared for that."

She nodded. "I'm ready. Not that I know much more than anyone else."

He put his hat back on. "I gotta get back to town. I'll see you Friday."

"Asleep," Michaela said as she walked down the stairs. "Although all this thunder didn't make my job very easy."

"Gettin' a little too old to be scared of thunder," Sully remarked as he sanded a spoke at the kitchen table.

Michaela walked to him and put her arm around him. "They must take after me. It still frightens me sometimes."

He put his work aside and brushed his hands off on his buckskins, then enveloped her in a hug. "Nothin' to be afraid of. I'll protect ya."

She smiled up at him wryly. "What would I do without you?"

Brian opened the front door, his leather jacket soaked through and water dripping in a big puddle from the brim of his hat.

"Brian, what are you doing out in this weather?" Michaela asked, stepping back from Sully. "Where's Sarah?"

He removed his hat and shut the door. "We, uh, we � " He sighed. "Sarah's at her ma's."

"At Anna Marie's? But why?" Michaela replied.

"We had a fight," he murmured. "About her ma movin' back to Georgia."

"Sarah still wanna go back with her?" Sully said.

He nodded. "Would it be all right if I stay here?" Brian asked quietly. "Just until we can work things out."

"Oh, of course. Of course, sweetheart," Michaela said. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes, all right? You'll catch your death." She went off to put a kettle on the stove and find him some clean towels as Sully hung up Brian's jacket and hat. Brian's shoulders were slumped slightly and his whole face looked incredibly downcast.

"Hey. It'll be all right, son," he said, clutching his arm. "You'll work things out."

"Hope you're right, Pa," Brian murmured.

Michaela walked into the guest bedroom carrying a pair of wool socks and an extra pillow.

"Brian? You can borrow Sully's socks," she instructed. "I don't want you catching a chill."

Brian sat on the bed in his old room, his knapsack at his feet. Most of his old furniture was gone, moved to his new homestead. In his absence the room had been converted into a homey guestroom. Sully had made a small bed and dresser and Michaela hung a few paintings and displayed a photograph of the family on the dresser. The room would stay that way for the time being until they were ready to move Eliza into it, perhaps when she was about a year old. Then it would be the nursery, and Michaela and Elizabeth had grand plans for that. After all, Eliza was the last Sully baby and their last chance for awhile to really spoil a little one and make a wonderful room for her. It made the women giddy with excitement to think about all they could do with it, especially since the baby was a girl. Elizabeth kept talking about yards and yards of pink and white lace. But for now they were going to have to restrain themselves.

Michaela tucked the pillow against the headboard and patted it. "Here, another pillow. I want you to be comfortable."

"Ma, I'm fine. Really. Don't mean to put you out like this."

"Nonsense, you could never put us out," she said. "You're welcome any time."

"Thanks, Ma."

"I do have to tell you, your cousin Mollie is arriving tomorrow evening to stay with us. But don't worry, we'll figure everything out. Perhaps we could set up a cot in the boys' room, or downstairs. That is, if you're even still here."

"Mollie? Oh, Mollie's comin' out?" His voice cracked slightly. He thought back to the last time he had seen Mollie in California when the family was living in Yosemite. Mollie had taken an immediate liking to him. And he in turn thought she was very pretty and had grown into a nice, intelligent and articulate young woman. They had even kissed a few times. But ultimately he had realized his true feelings were for Sarah, and he had delicately called things off with his red-headed cousin.

"Yes, isn't it wonderful? It's been years. She hasn't even met Eliza." Michaela smiled. She adored her niece and was thrilled she would be in town for the wedding. She picked up Brian's damp shirt off the end of the bed and draped it over the back of a chair to dry. Brian sighed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Do you want to talk about it?" she asked quietly.

Brian and Sarah had been relatively absent since their marriage, even though they only lived a few miles away. As much as Michaela would have liked to see them more, she remembered what it was like to be a newlywed and she had done her best to be patient and give them their space. Brian didn't need her as much anymore, and she had slowly grown to accept that and be happy for him in this new stage of his life with another woman. But to see him sitting on his bed like that, a problem weighing heavy on his shoulders and desperate to talk about it with someone, it was almost like old times. She hoped he would always feel comfortable confiding in her, even though he was married now and a grown man. And even if he didn't want to tell her everything, she at least wanted to let him know she was there for him.

He glanced up, shrugging. "Guess I never thought Sarah would leave me," he murmured.

"Sweetheart, she didn't leave you," she said, walking toward him. "It sounds like she just wants some time to think. Perhaps you both could use it."

"I can't go to Georgia. I know that for sure. But she says she can't leave her ma."

"I see." She sat on the bed.

"Ma, there's something you don't know about Sarah's pa. About how he died."

"Her pa? He died of frostbite I thought."

"Sarah and her ma don't want a lot of folks to know. But he was murdered. For being an abolitionist."

"Oh, my God," she breathed.

"Men that killed him got the death penalty," Brian said, folding his hands. "They were just executed."

"Is that why she and her mother came here in the first place?" Michaela asked. "To get away from that?"

He nodded. "Sarah says now that his killers are dead, they can go back."

"Oh, Brian. I had no idea."

"Yeah. Well, neither did I. Sarah never told me until now."

"Oh. Well, she, she probably just didn't want to talk about it," Michaela said reassuringly.

"I'm her husband. Thought she could tell me anything."

"She did. She told you when she could."

"Ma, I feel like this is � this is breakin' us apart." He swallowed hard.

She put her arm around him and gave his head a gentle kiss. "Don't jump to conclusions. You're tired. We all are. Sleep on it."

He put his arm around her back and gave her a squeeze. "Guess you're right. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Always thought there was somethin' that didn't add up about that," Sully remarked as he cuddled Michaela close to his chest in bed.

"What do you mean?" Michaela replied.

"Mrs. Sheehan came out here around Christmastime. She said her husband died three months before. I never heard of no blizzard in September. At least not that far down South."

"I never even thought about that. Why didn't you say something?"

He shrugged. "Didn't see the need to. Just thought if she was makin' all that up, she had her reasons. Wasn't my place to pry."

She glanced up at him with a wry smile.

"What?" he replied.

"Nothing. I just love you."

He smiled and gave her a soft kiss. "Brian all right?"

"I don't know. Not really. I thought he and Sarah were doing so well."

"Judging by what little we see of 'em, me, too."

"It sounds like Sarah really wants to move back with her mother. But I can't picture Brian living back East in a big city like that. That's not the life for him."

"They love each other. They'll find a way to compromise."

"Sully?" she whispered.

"Hm?"

"Thank you for staying in Colorado Springs all these years. I know you've passed up opportunities to go elsewhere so I could build my practice and the children could grow up here."

He held her all the closer. "Just wanna be where you're happy."

"I know, and I know how much of a sacrifice it's been for you. The way the town's been growing and changing, what's left of the Reservation. I just, I want you to know I appreciate you. You're giving the children and I a wonderful gift by keeping us all here."

He shifted over her and gave her cheeks a few gentle kisses. "I don't know, can't really picture livin' anywhere else right now."

"Even though my clinic's burned down? If you think about it, if we're ever going to move, now would be a good time to do it." She stroked his chest as he kissed the tip of her nose and unbuttoned her nightgown. "You wouldn't like to go further West? Nevada? California? You liked living in California when we were there a few years ago. Loved."

He snuggled down close and planted some kisses across her breasts.

"Sully?"

He glanced up. "Michaela, Colorado's where we built a life together." He stroked her belly and kissed it. "All our kids were born here. We made our family here." He shifted up and caressed her cheek. "It's where I wanna stay, too."

She smiled with happiness and held him to her as he stroked her back and pressed his lips to hers again in a slow and sensuous kiss.

"Fight?! About what?!" Elizabeth cried from her bed as Michaela gave her a handful of pills and a glass of water.

"Shh, Mother," Michaela scolded. "I don't want the children to hear."

She lowered her voice slightly. "For God sake they haven't even been married six months. What could they possibly be this upset over?" She put the pills on her tongue and swallowed them down with a gulp of water.

"It's about Sarah's mother moving back to Georgia," she explained.

"Oh, that. Well, of course they can't go. It's absurd. Tell your daughter-in-law if she thinks she's moving back there then they won't be getting a dime of my money. At least what's left of it."

"Mother, just let them work it out," Michaela said.

"Let them work it out?" she blurted. "You mean do nothing?"

"Yes. Do nothing. Unless they ask of course. In the meantime our home is open to Brian as long as he needs."

Elizabeth scowled at her as Michaela handed her her cane.

"Mother, you said yourself a good mother-in-law does her best to stay out of things like this."

"I never said that. No."

"Yes, you did. You told me that the day Brian got married. And it was excellent advice that I've tried my best to follow. Believe me it hasn't been easy. But it's the right thing to do."

"Right thing. Since when has the right thing ever been right?" Elizabeth muttered. "Fine, fine. We'll stay out of it if you're so sure that's best. Help me out of bed. We can at least make him a healthy breakfast if his wife isn't going to be cooking for him for awhile."

Michaela smiled and grasped her around the waist, easing her to her feet. "Good. Let's."

"Where's Sarah?" Katie piped up inquisitively as Martha poured her a glass of milk at the breakfast table.

"Good question," Elizabeth muttered. Michaela gave her a stern look. Sully was just finishing feeding the baby after eating a big breakfast himself.

"She's at her ma's," Brian said evenly. "You know how her ma's movin' back East to Georgia?"

"Yeah," Katie replied, taking a sip of her milk.

"Well, she's got a lot to do to help her out. A lotta packin' to do."

"Oh. I bet your house was too quiet without her," Byron said. "And that's why ya wanted to come over here and be with us!"

"You couldn't stand the quiet," Red Eagle said.

"Yeah, you missed us," Katie added.

Brian put his arm around her and held her close. "I did miss ya."

"School in less than an hour. We need to get going," Michaela remarked as she got up and cleared her plate. "I'll drive you this morning, all right?"

"Goodie, Mama's drivin' us," Byron said, getting up to put his plate and glass in the sink. Red Eagle followed him. "Ma, you're the best driver, you know that? I like how you drive."

She chuckled. "Oh, is that so?"

"I'll hitch the wagon," Sully said.

"I can do that, Pa. I don't mind," Brian said, getting up.

"All right. Thanks, Brian," Sully replied. He helped clear the rest of the breakfast dishes as the children filed off to find their schoolbooks. He eyed Michaela a long moment. "Didn't eat much," he finally remarked.

"Me?" Michaela replied.

"Ya only ate a little toast." He gently touched her arm. "Lately I been noticin', ya been lookin' kinda boney."

"Boney?" she repeated in disbelief, turning to look at him. "I look boney." Sully never said anything negative about her appearance, as she knew some husbands tended to, and she appreciated him for it. A husband's criticism could be especially hard on a woman. She had seen what it had done to some of her sisters over the years. Sully's out-of-character remark took her off guard, and it stung more than she expected it to.

He cleared his throat, realizing his error. "Just, ya look too thin. Maybe you're so worried about you're clinic you're forgettin' to eat. Maybe ya should sit down and have some eggs, let Martha drive the kids to school."

She scoffed and rinsed a plate in the sink.

"I could, I could make you some eggs, dearie," Martha spoke up gently as she wiped down the table. "It'll take no time at all."

"Actually, Sully's right. You do look a trifle too thin at times, Michaela," Elizabeth added helpfully.

She ignored them. "Martha, could you finish the dishes? I need to get the children to school or we'll be late."

"I'll come, too," Sully said.

"I thought you had to work on those wheels today."

"I do. After we drive the kids to school."

"All right," she said with confusion. "Let's go."

Michaela bent down and gave Byron one last hug from the wagon.

"Mmm. Have a good day at school," she said.

"Thanks for driving me, Ma," he replied cheerfully. "You're really busy."

She smiled at him. He had always been an appreciative child, and she was proud of him for it. Unlike many children his age, he noticed when someone went out of the way for him. "You're welcome, sweetheart. I love driving you to school."

"Your asthma acts up, you tell your teacher," Sully added.

"Yes, don't hesitate," Michaela said. "That's what she's there for."

"I will." He waved at her and Sully, then scurried off to go play with Red Eagle and Katie and his classmates before Teresa rang the bell.

Michaela gathered the reins and clicked her tongue at Buck, turning the wagon around in a big circle and heading it back to the homestead. Sully rested his arm loosely across the back of the wagon seat and chewed on a long piece of stiff grass. They rode in silence for a good ten minutes until finally he threw the piece of grass aside and straightened.

"Are ya speakin' to me?" he finally asked.

She slapped the reins. "What? Of course I am."

"I'm sorry I hurt your feelings," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to say that. That's not what I meant."

"You didn't hurt my feelings," she said defensively.

"That why you're not speakin' to me?"

"I am speaking to you. What do you call this?"

"You ain't been this quiet since �" He paused. "Come to think of it, I can't remember ya ever bein' this quiet."

A small grin tugged at her lips. "Am I really that talkative normally?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Do I ever get � I don't know, irritating? Don't you ever want to tell me to stop?"

He gazed at her lovingly. "No. I like your voice." He shifted a little closer to her.

She sighed. "All right, you did hurt my feelings. You've never said anything like that to me. I don't mean to be so sensitive. I think we're both on edge right now. I just didn't expect you to say something like that."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I just wanted ya to know I was worried about ya. Just came out wrong."

"I know. It's all right."

"I think you're beautiful. Everything about ya." He leaned forward and kissed her.

She smiled shyly as he rested his hand on her knee. "Do you want to drive? I don't mind."

"No, that's all right. You can." He put his arm around her lovingly. "I'll just enjoy the ride."

Sully sanded down a spoke of a wheel in the barn, squatting down in the dust to be level with it. The project was a simple one, just repairing a few old wheels a customer of Robert E.'s needed, and the pay wasn't that good. But any money coming in right now they could use.

"Oh, you're really coming along with that," Michaela remarked as she walked into the barn, her medical bag in tow. She bent down and kissed him. "I'll be back in time for supper. Martha's looking after the baby and Brian's gone to town to work at the Gazette."

"Supper? Where ya goin' now?" Sully said, looking up at her skeptically.

"Oh, I have more house calls to make than I can count. And after that I have to meet Claudette and take her to the train station. You remember Mollie comes in today, don't you? The five o'clock train."

Sully nodded. In truth he didn't remember that, but he never had to worry about Michaela's niece Mollie. She was always a wonderful houseguest, and as far as he was concerned she was welcome any time. "Listen, let me just finish this up. Give me a couple hours. Then I'll drive ya."

She wrinkled her brow. "What? No, I have to leave now. It's already late."

He got to his feet. "It'll be fine. I'll get ya to all your house calls."

"I told Faye I was going to stop by first thing in the morning," Michaela said. "Jack has a little case of cradle cap we've been monitoring."

He sighed. "It can wait two hours, Michaela."

"No actually, it can't. And neither can the rest of my patients. Sully, what's gotten into you? Why won't you let me go anywhere by myself anymore? Don't you trust me to take care of myself?"

"Course I do."

"You watch my every move. You follow me everywhere. Now you're even telling me what to eat. I feel � I feel smothered."

He eyed her impatiently. "Didn't know I was smotherin' ya. From now on I'll just keep my distance."

"Sully, that's not what I meant," she retorted. "It�s about Harrington, isn't it? I didn't listen to you and let him stay in the clinic anyway and now you're angry at me."

"I ain't angry. And it ain't about Harrington. Not exactly."

"Then what's it about?" She pursed her lips in frustration. "Fine. I'll see you later." She spun around.

He grabbed her arm. "And I'm tellin' ya no. Ya ain't goin'."

"You're telling me no," she repeated in disbelief.

"That's right."

She shrugged him off, suddenly growing tearful. "You've never, ever forbidden me from doing something. Not ever. You've always given me freedom to make my own decisions."

"Michaela, look, I'll explain later. Just believe me, all right? Don't go."

"No," she retorted stubbornly. "You're not going to order me about like my sisters husbands do to them. I told you from the beginning that's not the kind of marriage I wanted. That I wasn't going to marry you if that's how it was going to be." She stared up at him lividly. "I'm going. Goodbye."

He sighed. "Maybe you should learn to trust folks that care about ya."

"Maybe if you told me why you're being like this, I could," she retorted. She walked briskly out of the barn, not looking back.

"Auntie Michaela!" Mollie cried as she stepped off the train.

Michaela held out her arms and enveloped her niece in a tight hug. Mollie had been a very pretty young woman when they had last seen her in San Francisco when she was nineteen. But at twenty-one now, she had really grown into herself. It was like seeing Claudette at the same age with her beautiful, long red hair pulled back in a stylish chignon, her pale, porcelain skin radiating, and a trace of freckles left over from childhood across her nose and cheeks.

"Oh, you're so breathtaking," Michaela said, clutching her arms. "Look at you! And I don't remember you being so tall!"

"That's your father's fault. Blame him for the height," Claudette spoke up.

"Hello, Mother," Mollie said coolly, staring at her with narrowed eyes.

"Mollie," she replied just as distantly. "I trust you had a good trip."

"By your standards or mine? You're never pleased. We could build you the Taj Mahal and you wouldn't be pleased."

"Don't start, dear," Claudette retorted.

Michaela looked at Mollie and then Claudette, confused. There was something strange going on between them. They hadn't even hugged. She knew Claudette and Mollie hadn't always gotten along, but she had never seen them be this cold with each other.

Preston broke the awkward silence by stepping forward and holding out a small bouquet of roses. "Miss Mollie. An honor to meet you. Call me Preston."

Mollie studied him a moment, then dabbed at her nose with her handkerchief. "Oh, you didn't know? I'm allergic to flowers."

Claudette pressed one hand to her forehead. "Oh, dear. I completely forgot. She's right, she is."

"Leave it to you to forget something like that, Mother," Mollie said bitterly. "I'm only your daughter."

"Well, dear, we've been terribly busy planning the wedding. It simply slipped my mind about your allergy. My apologies."

"Oh, yes, understandable. I'm sure I'm quite the inconvenience at a time like this. Let me be the one to apologize."

"Chocolates? Are you allergic to chocolates?" Preston spoke up.

"Um, let's get your luggage, sweetheart," Michaela said uncomfortably. "And get you settled in. The children are positively thrilled you're going to be staying with us."

"Well, I'm certainly not going to stay with her," Mollie muttered, casting a sour glance at her mother as she followed Michaela to the luggage car.

"Oh, Grandmother. Auntie wasn't joking! How good you look!" Mollie cried as she hugged Elizabeth tightly.

Elizabeth beamed up at her in her wheelchair. "Never mind me. Look at you! San Francisco agrees with you, dear. Must be the ocean air."

"Yes it does," she replied.

"Hug me next!" Byron cried, pushing on her back as Michaela carried in one of Mollie's carpetbags and put it on the table.

Mollie laughed and spun around, enveloping Byron and Katie in her arms. "You two are absolute giants since I last saw you! My goodness!"

"No, I'm still little," Katie cried. "I can't even reach the shelves!"

"Red Eagle, don't be shy," Elizabeth encouraged. Red Eagle was standing in the sitting room, observing the entire scene quietly. "Come meet my granddaughter."

Red Eagle walked over, reluctantly approaching Mollie.

"Nice to meet you," Red Eagle whispered politely.

"Nice to meet you, too, handsome," she said, extending her hand.

"Oh. My name's Red Eagle," he explained, shaking her hand.

She chuckled. "Yes, I know."

"Gee, Grand'ma. How many grandkids do you have anyway?" Red Eagle asked. "I keep meeting new ones."

"I don't know. Must be a hundred by now," Byron said.

"Oh, let's hope not," Elizabeth said with a chuckle. "Let's see. Fourteen, I believe," she said. "And all of them are smart and good looking and make me so proud." She put her arm around Mollie affectionately. "Especially this one! A big-city reporter. I always save your articles in my scrapbook, sweetheart. Every one."

Mollie smiled delightedly.

"Mother, where's Sully?" Michaela asked as she hung up her jacket. "His horse isn't in the barn."

Elizabeth cleared her throat awkwardly. "Oh. Sully? Well, I-"

"He left, Mama," Byron explained.

"Left?" Michaela repeated. "Where did he go?"

"We're not sure, dear," Elizabeth said. "He was awfully quiet today. Is something wrong?"

Michaela thought back to their fight that morning. "No, what would be wrong?" she stammered. "Did he say when he's coming back?"

"No. He did say to start supper without him," Elizabeth murmured. "Martha put a roast in the oven before she left."

"He did?" She swallowed hard. It was very unlike Sully to disappear when he knew they were having company over. She feared he was more than a little angry with her for defying him that morning and going on house calls anyway despite his objections. But she didn't want to let on that she was worried and upset the children. "Oh, well, let's eat then. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"More tea?" Michaela asked as she took a seat across from Mollie at the kitchen table.

"Yes, please."

Michaela filled up her cup and Mollie added cream and a little sugar to it and blew on it.

"Well, I'm so glad you could get away from the magazine and come out here. It's been too long," Michaela said.

"Mother isn't very glad."

"What? That's nonsense. Your mother's thrilled you can come to her wedding."

"She certainly doesn't act it."

"Mollie, is there something going on between you two? Did something happen?"

"Mother and I never saw eye to eye."

"I know you've had your differences, but this seems like more than that."

Mollie silently took a sip of her tea.

"You know, your grandmother and I are very different people," Michaela said. "We had many quarrels growing up. In fact when I was your age and in medical school, we were barely even speaking at one point."

"Grandmother just didn't think medical school was a good idea. But she came around."

"Exactly. We worked through our differences. It may have been rocky when I was younger, but we've grown together and learned to appreciate each other. I never would have thought it when I was your age, but Grandmother and I are practically best friends now. You and your mother will get there, too."

"I doubt it." She sighed. "You remember when Robbie died, how grief-stricken Mother was? And how you stepped in and looked after Wills and I for months and months?"

"How could I forget?" Michaela murmured.

"You know what I used to wish?"

"What?"

Tears welled in her eyes. "I used to wish you were my mother instead of her. The truth is sometimes I still do."

"Mollie, you don't mean that," Michaela scolded.

"I do, Auntie. I hate her. And she hates me, too."

"Mollie, no she doesn't," Michaela said uncomfortably. "Don't say that."

"I'm rather tired from the trip. I think I'll retire." She put down her cup and stood up, kissing Michaela's cheek. "Goodnight, Auntie."

"Goodnight," Michaela said hoarsely.

Eliza whimpered from her crib in the darkness, kicking her legs. Michaela roused instantly and got out of bed, grasping her bathrobe off the end as she went and slipping it on.

"What is it, sweetheart?" Michaela whispered, reaching into the crib. Eliza's blanket was twisted around her torso uncomfortably and her chest was uncovered. Fat tears dripped down her cheeks. "Oh, what happened? Are you cold?" She lifted her out and walked to the fire. "Shh, we'll sit by the fire and get toasty warm again, hm?"

She dragged the rocking chair close to the fire and sat down with the baby, cuddling her close and rocking her. Eliza stopped whimpering and relaxed.

Michaela glanced at the empty bed. Sully often wanted space after they had a quarrel, and she had grown to accept it. Going off by himself was his way of sorting things out, and she couldn't begrudge him that. He usually returned much calmer and ready to talk things out. And she had begun to realize the time apart was good for her, too. It gave her temper a chance to subside. They were both hot-headed, and it was never a good idea to try to talk about anything when they were angry.

She shook with a start when Sully opened the bedroom door.

"Didn't know you were still up," he whispered in surprise.

"The baby was crying," she explained.

He sat on the bed and slipped off his boots. "She all right?"

"She's fine."

He silently unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the end of the bed.

"Are you all right?" she asked.

He sighed, staring at the fire. "Yeah."

"Sully, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you about Harrington," she began unsteadily. "You told me not to let him in the clinic while you were gone. But I did what I wanted anyway. I didn't let myself think that you might have had a good reason to warn me about him."

"It's all right," he whispered.

"I should have listened to you. And now he burned down my clinic."

He met her eyes. "We don't know for sure he did it."

"He's the one in jail. Everyone else thinks he did it. Who else could have been responsible?"

"I don't know," he murmured.

She got up and tucked the baby back in her crib, covering her up snuggly. Then she strolled to the bed and stood in front of him. "I suppose the fire was my fault," she said. "If I hadn't let Harrington stay there, told him where the key was ..."

"Look, don't go blaming yourself. You wanted to help somebody who didn't have no place to sleep. That's who you are, wantin' to help folks. It's what makes ya such a good doctor. You care." He parted his legs and drew her close, wrapping his arms around her.

"I just wish I knew how it happened. Nothing makes sense anymore."

"Guess we may never know what really happened."

She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, smiling softly. "I'm glad you're home."

He drew her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Michaela," he breathed.

She kissed his hair. "Me, too."

He rocked her lovingly in the soft firelight, drawing comfort from her tight embrace.

Brian walked into the kitchen and washed up at the basin. He spotted Mollie walking down the staircase, dressed for the day with her hair pinned up stylishly.

"Oh, morning, Brian," she said. "We haven't seen much of you."

"Well, I been busy with work and my own homestead and things." He dried his neck off with a towel. Mollie was a beautiful girl there was no doubt about it. And if Sarah wasn't in his life he may very well have ended up courting her instead. After all, they had gotten along just swimmingly when he visited San Francisco. But all that seemed like a distant memory now. Clearly they had both moved on with their lives, and anything between them was just an insignificant, adolescent fling.

"Congratulations on your marriage," she said with a smile.

"Oh, thanks. Ma says you're seeing William Hearst's son."

"That's right. Oh, I wish you could meet him. He loves to write. He's business manager of his college paper, The Harvard Lampoon. Wants to be a big journalist someday."

"He does? I thought his family was in mining."

"They are. They're in lots of things. Ranching, journalism. Everything, really."

"I wanna hear all about it. Are you heading over to the Ch�teau? Maybe I could drive ya."

"Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you."

He smiled. "I'll just hitch the wagon. Be right back."

"William's very concerned about conditions in the cities' factories," Mollie said as she held Brian's arm and they drove out to the Ch�teau.

"I've heard bad things myself," Brian said.

"Oh, it's terrible. When I walk down to the wharf in San Francisco I always see children wandering the streets with missing limbs or starving to death or left to fend for themselves while their parents work twelve or fourteen hours a day. I don't think those poor children go to school at all. They might as well be slaves. William says it's even worse back East."

"Not somethin' to be proud of," Brian said.

"William might write a book on it someday. Perhaps you could help him. Research the factories in Denver, find out what conditions are like there."

"Really? That might be interestin'. Sure would like to talk to him about it. You'd really put me in touch with him?"

"Of course I would. He'd love to talk to you, too. I'll give you his personal address in San Francisco and you can exchange letters."

He smiled. "That'd be great." He shielded his eyes as a rider galloped toward them. He recognized Taffy first and then Sarah.

"Sarah?" he blurted with surprise.

She rode up to them, her expression growing increasingly skeptical as she eyed the two.

"Brian, I was looking for you." She cleared her throat. "Who's � who's this?"

He glanced at Mollie. "Oh. This is my cousin. Mollie Atkins. Mollie, this is my wife."

"What a pleasure to finally meet you," Mollie said cheerfully. "Congratulations. He's quite a wonderful young man, isn't he?"

"This is Mollie?" Sarah said insecurely. She was stunned by how beautiful she was, and didn't like the idea one bit that Brian was out with her alone. Brian had told her ages ago about his brief courtship with Mollie. They had always been open and honest with each other about things like that. And she had always trusted him when he told her he didn't have any feelings for her and never had. But Brian had conveniently left out how thin and beautiful and stylish his cousin was, which Sarah thought was very important information.

Brian cleared his throat. "Um, yeah. This is Mollie."

"I'll just leave you two to enjoy the rest of your outing." She squeezed Taffy's belly with her legs and sent her back into a trot.

"Sarah, wait. Wait!" Brian called, standing up in the wagon.

Sarah galloped off, ignoring him.

Brian sighed and sat back down.

"Oh, no. Is everything all right?" Mollie asked.

"Yeah. I don't know. We � we had a pretty big fight a couple days back. It's got nothing to do with you."

"Oh, no. I'm sorry, Brian. Why don't you go talk to her right now? She seemed upset."

"But I was gonna drop you off."

"Oh, it's all right. I don't mind. It's only half a mile up the road." She climbed down to the ground with ease and grabbed her purse and parasol out of the wagon.

"But � I don't really think she wants to talk right now," he said.

She opened her parasol. "Whenever William and I have a fight, the only thing that makes it worse is when he doesn't drop by afterward or at least telephone me. She came riding out here looking for you, didn't she? She wants to talk. Women always do. Trust me."

He nodded reluctantly. "Thank, Mollie." He turned the wagon in a big circle and headed after Sarah.

"Good luck," she called.

Michaela tied Mr. Jerrick's sling tight and then gave him a hand down from the dining room table.

"You're going to need to wear this sling for at least a few more weeks. It was quite a bad sprain," she instructed.

Red Eagle screeched from across the room. The boys had been so rambunctious all afternoon Michaela didn't even bother to see what he was shouting about this time. Their toys were scattered all over the floor and their schoolbooks were still on the kitchen table unopened. Claudette was going to need Martha at the hotel all day to help with the wedding, and Michaela had been too busy with patients to be able to do much supervising. Byron had been home from school so much lately he was really started to amass quite a bit of pent up energy, and it didn't take much to get Red Eagle going, too.

"Red Eagle! Boys, please!" Michaela scolded.

"Here, this cover it?" Mr. Jerrick asked, handing Michaela a coin.

"Yes, thank you. Now go home and take it easy," she said as she guided him out the front door.

He put his hat back on. "Thanks, Dr. Mike. Sure am glad we can still come to you."

She smiled softly. "Me, too." She closed the door after him just as a large thud sounded.

She turned around to find Byron and Red Eagle wrestling on the sitting room floor, throwing play punches at each other.

"What on earth are you doing now?" she demanded. "Stop it."

"We're just boxing," Byron said, putting Red Eagle in a headlock.

"Stop that before someone gets hurt," she scolded, walking up to them. "Boys! Mama told you to stop!"

"Come on, Ma," Red Eagle protested. "We won't get hurt."

"I said that's enough!" she cried. She tried to grab Byron and pull him away, but he and Red Eagle were getting bigger and stronger with every passing day. They had both grown to just a few inches shy of her shoulders now. The tiny children she could once so easily pick up and even carry not very long ago had sprouted into sturdy young boys she could no longer easily contend with.

Byron kicked an end table with both feet and the lamp and doily atop it went toppling over. Michaela lunged to try to catch it but it was too late and glass and lamp oil crashed to the boards.

"My lamp!" Michaela exclaimed.

The boys stopped wrestling and looked at the lamp in disbelief.

Michaela crouched down and picked up the base of the lamp. She looked at the boys forlornly, then suddenly got up. "Excuse me," she whispered, rushing outside and shutting the door firmly after her.

Much to her relief, Sully was just galloping up to the homestead. "Saw Mr. Jerrick on the road," he remarked as he dismounted. "Sounds like his arm's feelin' better." He stopped short. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head as the tears flowed. "They don't listen to me. I can't control them anymore."

He hurried up the porch and clutched her arm. "Who?"

"Byron and Red Eagle," she said. "They don't listen to a thing I say. They don't respect me whatsoever anymore." She sunk onto the bench miserably. "They're better off with Martha. They don't disobey her."

"What're ya talkin' about?"

"Sully, she knows how to make them behave where I don't. And now they prefer her. I can't blame them. That's how I felt about Martha when I was a little girl. I would much rather be with her than my mother."

"Now you're talkin' silly. Course they want their ma." He sat beside her and rubbed her back. "Michaela, they're just growin' up, testin' the waters. Seein' how much they can get away with. It's normal. We can't take it personal."

"Sully, I just don't know what to do," she replied.

"First thing I'm gonna do is have a talk with the two of 'em," he said. "Let 'em know this kinda thing ain't gonna happen anymore." He paused and gave her a reassuring hug. "Michaela, it's gonna be all right."

"Thank you for talking to them. I just don't think I could right now."

He squeezed her shoulder and then headed inside. Byron and Red Eagle were quietly cleaning up the mess from the lamp. Byron was holding the dust pan and Red Eagle was trying to sweep up the bits of glass into it.

"Your ma's out there cryin', ya know that?" Sully said as he took off his belt and put it on the table.

"You made her cry," Red Eagle accused, shoving Byron in the shoulder.

"No I didn't. You did!" Byron cried.

"Hey. Point is, sounds to me like neither of ya been listenin' to what your ma tells ya. That true?"

"Yes, sir. I guess," Byron whispered.

"Yes, sir," Red Eagle replied.

"Why's that?" Sully asked.

The boys just stared at their feet awkwardly.

"Listen, I know what happened to the clinic has been real hard on everybody," Sully said, approaching them and resting his hand on Byron's shoulder. "I know it ain't easy havin' all these patients in the house, havin' me and Mama so busy tryin' to take care of everything that needs to be done." He folded his arms. "And it's gonna be awhile before things get any easier. Judge is gonna be in town end of the week and Mama's gonna have to go to Harrington's trial and talk about what happened all over again. But that don't mean we both don't expect ya to behave."

The boys suddenly looked all the more solemn.

"Trial?" Red Eagle whispered.

"That's right."

"Papa? What's � what's gonna happen to Harrington?" Byron asked.

"Well, if the judge says he's guilty, he'll probably go to jail for a real long time."

"Oh."

"But you don't gotta worry about that. You're gonna be too busy doin' extra chores," Sully said. "Maybe then you'll be too tired to disobey your ma."

"Pa?" Byron asked.

"Yeah?"

"I think we should tell Ma we're sorry."

"Real sorry. We'll try extra hard to be good and listen," Red Eagle added.

Sully smiled softly. "I think she'd like to hear that."

Brian quietly opened the front door of his little homestead and stepped inside. He hung up his jacket. Sarah was at the sink, vigorously scrubbing a plate with a soapy washcloth and wearing an apron.

"You been at your ma's?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah. Guess I didn't wanna be here all alone."

"You left dishes in the sink."

"Oh, I did? I'm sorry." He walked over to her. "Here, I'll do 'em."

"No, it's all right. I like to do them."

He watched her scrub a moment. "Sarah, listen, if you think there's anything goin' on between me and Mollie, there ain't. She's just a nice girl. My ma's niece. That's all. Sides, she's got some steady beau back East she can't stop talkin' about. She don't care about me either."

"She sure is pretty. You didn't tell me she's a redhead. Thought you liked redheads."

"What? Since when do I like redheads?"

She put the dish on the drying rack and shrugged. "You never said she was so pretty."

He touched her back. "Is she? I didn't notice. I'm too busy thinkin' about you. You're the one who's pretty." He gave her cheek a soft kiss. "I'm sorry. Please come back to stay here at the homestead. I miss ya so much. I miss ya next to me. Can't sleep without ya."

She turned to face him. "Oh, Brian. I miss you, too. I'm sorry." Tears welled in her eyes. "Truth is, I just � I feel guilty. Ever since we got married my ma's been all alone in that house with nobody to talk to, eat with, share the chores with. You and me been spending so much time alone. I feel like we've forgotten about her."

"My ma really hasn't seen me much either," he said. "But Sarah, it's all right for us to just wanna be alone right now. We're newlyweds. Our folks understand."

"Maybe so. And I'm happy that things've been goin' so well." She smiled shyly. "Bein' married to you is the best thing that ever happened to me. But your ma has Sully and the children and your grand'ma. I'm sure she misses you, but I don't think she's lonely like my ma is without me."

"Guess that's true."

"I don't really want to move back to Georgia. That place is just a fading memory now. You're right, our lives are here in Colorado. But it just breaks my heart to think of being separated from my ma after being by her side day and night ever since my daddy was killed. It was hard enough on her when I got married and moved out of the house and we moved in here together. I know it was."

"You just wanna be there for her after she's been here for you all these years. I love that about you. You really care about your family. Wouldn't have it any other way."

She hugged him. "I just want her to know how much I appreciate her, how much she's done for me. And that I would do anything for her."

"Sarah, she knows that. I know she does."

"Brian, she coulda given up when that happened. She could have let my daddy's death do us in. Let it ruin our lives. Instead she took me out West, got me away from it all, the trial and everything. Let me grow up in the countryside around good people and a good town. Gave me a fresh start. She was so brave to leave everything we had behind and start over. My childhood was a good one because of the sacrifices she made."

"She loves you. She's a good ma," he replied, rubbing her back.

"That she is. And you know something? She gave me the greatest gift anybody could give. By movin' us out West, she brought me to my future husband. To you."

"Then I owe her a lot, too." He caressed her cheek. "Listen to me, you got no cause to feel guilty about gettin' married and moving out. Most kids do. It may not be easy, but your ma knows it was gonna happen eventually. And she's happy for us. I know she is."

"She adores you, you know."

"I like her, too." He gently touched her nose. "You know, things are goin' well at the Gazette. Next month maybe we could take a big trip for a month or so. Out to Georgia. See to it she's settlin' in well."

"Really?" she asked, brightening. "You think we could do that?"

"And she could come out here in the summer when the weather's not so cold. You're still gonna see each other a lot."

She hugged him again. "Oh, I'm so glad you're home. I'm so sorry we fought."

"Me, too," he whispered, rocking her lovingly. "Me, too."

"I'm not doing it, Mother," Mollie said firmly, arms folded as Martha held up a beautiful light blue bride's maid dress in the hotel room with an encouraging smile.

"But Martha altered it extra long just for you, and bought you a lovely pair of matching shoes just in your size," Claudette said. "Just try it on, dear."

"I'm sorry you had to slave away so much for my mother's sake, Martha. I hate it. It's ugly as sin. And I'm not going to stand up with you at this wedding. I refuse, Mother."

"Who's going to stand up with me then?" Claudette demanded.

"I don't know. Ask Auntie Michaela to do it. Pay her if you have to. It's not my problem."

"But etiquette!" Claudette cried. "She's married, she can't stand up with me!"

"Oh, who cares? No one cares about your silly wedding or etiquette at it, I promise."

"Oh, how did you become so cruel and selfish?!" Claudette exclaimed.

Martha cleared her throat awkwardly and busied herself hanging up the dress.

"Selfish!" Mollie cried. "I'm selfish?!"

"Yes, you are. I can't believe you won't be my maid of honor. After everything I've done for you. Ungrateful child."

Mollie crossed her arms stubbornly. "Until you approve of my life, I won't approve of yours."

"Oh, good gracious. I'm never going to condone you running around with that mining mogul's son and you know it."

"Running around! I do no such thing!"

"That entire family is made up of gamblers and drunks. Everyone knows it."

"Oh, Mother, please. He's not a drunk. He's a Harvard man, I thought you'd love that."

"Stay away from him, dearest, if you know what's good for you."

"William Hearst is a wonderful young man with an exceptional talent for business. He's going to be famous one day and probably very wealthy. Isn't that all that matters to you? Fame and fortune? I thought you'd be falling all over yourself to meet him."

"It's your life, sweetheart. You may see who you please. But I won't approve. Never."

"Fine! Good!" Mollie retorted. "Martha, could you please get my wrap?"

"Yes, miss," Martha said, scurrying off to the closet.

"Where are you going?" Claudette demanded. "What about supper? Preston has his best table reserved for us and you're supposed to meet his father tonight."

"I'm having supper at Auntie Michaela's and Uncle Sully's. They invited me. They appreciate me."

"Auntie Mich--You can't!"

"Yes, I can! Goodbye!" She took her wrap from Martha and slammed the door.

"A hundred times sure is a lot of lines," Red Eagle remarked, arms tucked behind his head as he laid in bed. "My wrist hurts."

"Yeah," Byron whispered. He hugged his stuffed puppy a little tighter.

"Wonder how long it took us to do that," he replied pensively. "Sure felt like forever."

"Red Eagle?" Byron replied.

"Yeah?"

"You think they hang folks for starting a fire?"

"You mean Harrington?"

"Yeah."

Red Eagle swallowed hard. "I don't know. Maybe."

"I know we promised not to tell. About us playin' with matches."

Red Eagle turned his head to look at him. "But we can't go back on it, Byron. It'll make Mama so mad."

"I know, but what if � what if they hang Harrington when it was our fault?"

"You think they might?" He paused a long moment. "Maybe we should tell. I don't want Harrington to die. And sides, they don't hang kids."

"Yeah. We already wrote enough lines to make our hands fall off. Might as well do a few more."

"It's gonna make Mama so sad. She'll cry. We burned down her clinic." He sniffled. "Even though we didn't mean to."

"Mama always says tell the truth. No matter what tell the truth."

"Yeah," Red Eagle whispered pensively. "You really think we should tell?"

Byron nodded. "We gotta."

"All right," he agreed. "Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Byron said bravely.

Sully refilled Michaela's coffee cup at the dining room table and resumed his seat beside her. The children were all tucked in and Elizabeth had already gone to bed.

Michaela stacked together several sheets of paper on which Byron and Red Eagle had each written 'I will not wrestle my brother in the house' a hundred times.

"Look at how neatly they tried to write," she said with a smile. "Byron even asked me for a ruler to keep it straight."

"I'd say they learned their lesson," Sully replied wryly.

"Remember how much we wanted a little boy after Katie was born? Growing up with four sisters, I always thought sons would be easier." She chuckled and shook her head.

"May not be any easier, but sure do make things interestin'," Sully said with a soft chuckle.

"They certainly are a challenge," she replied. "But a good challenge."

He leaned forward and kissed her just as Claudette burst through the front door, face flushed and in tears.

"Oh, Michaela!"

"Claudette, what's wrong?" Michaela exclaimed, standing up.

"It's Mollie. It's a nightmare. Everything's ruined. She hates me."

"No she doesn't," Michaela protested. "She's just, she's upset right now."

"I've ruined everything," Claudette sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

Sully looked at Claudette with raised eyebrows. He had never seen her let her guard down like this, and he couldn't help gawking a little.

Michaela gathered her into a comforting hug. "Hush. I'll put some more coffee on and we'll talk. It's going to be fine."

"She won't be my maid of honor, she wants nothing to do with Preston, she refuses to cooperate in every way," Claudette said despairingly as she sat on the porch bench and sipped her coffee.

"Claudette, what's this all about?" Michaela asked curiously. "There must be something more to this."

Claudette sighed. "Her new beau in San Francisco. William Hearst."

"Oh, is he related to the Hearst family?"

"That's him. His father was a state senator and owns a mining empire out there."

"She mentioned she was seeing someone, but I had no idea he was a Hearst."

"She's just going to get hurt, Michaela," Claudette said. "She'll end up marrying that cheating, drunken gambler and be as trapped as I was with Charles."

"He gambles? How do you know?"

"Oh, Michaela, please. You've heard of the Hearsts. You know those sort of people."

"I do?"

"Democrats, all of them. She's doing this just to spite me, I know she is. She knows how I feel about politics."

"Perhaps this isn't necessarily about you. Perhaps she's just in love," Michaela suggested quietly.

"In love," Claudette muttered, taking another sip of coffee. "I was young like her once, and silly enough to fall in love with my husband, too, and turn a blind eye to everything else." She took a deep breath. "I don't want her to make the same mistakes. Is that so wrong?"

"Claudette, you need to talk to her then. Tell her your concerns. There's nothing wrong with you being concerned for her."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because Mollie doesn't know, that's why."

"Doesn't know what?"

"She doesn't know about her father," Claudette said firmly. "She doesn't know about the drinking, the gambling, the way he squandered away half our fortune. And she certainly doesn't know about � about her. I tried to keep the children away from all that. Mollie and Wills are blissfully unaware to this day."

"You never told them anything?"

"No, I never told them anything. Of course not. Mollie was just seven years old at the time. I said Father became ill and went to heaven to go be with your brother. That's all. They accepted it and we moved on with our lives."

"Then they don't know how Robbie contracted tuberculosis? They never asked?" Michaela murmured.

"No, and I never brought it up," Claudette whispered. "It would kill them to know their father gave it to him. Mollie and Wills adored their older brother. And their father." She glanced at Michaela. "Would you tell your children such a thing? Wouldn't you want to protect them?"

Michaela paused. "Yes. I suppose so. But Mollie's a woman now. She could handle all of this."

"I'll never tell her, neither of them," Claudette said resolutely. "How can I tell her that her father was sleeping with another woman before we were even married? Even the night Mollie was born he was off with that girl of his utterly oblivious to the fact that his first daughter was about to arrive. No, it's better she just thinks he was a kind, caring father who was taken from her far too soon. I'll go to my deathbed with the real truth."

"I see," Michaela murmured.

"Don't you get any ideas, Michaela," Claudette suddenly said. "Don't you dare tell her."

"No, of course not," Michaela said. "Not against your wishes."

"Good, you'd better not," Claudette retorted.

"But what are you going to do? How will you resolve this?" Michaela asked. "You can't go on like this, the two of you at such odds." She paused. "Claudette, would you let me talk to her?"

"I told you I don't want you to tell her," Claudette said firmly.

"No, I wouldn't. I promise. It's just, sometimes it helps to talk to another woman about your mother. I know I often confided in Rebecca. Mollie might be more willing to talk this out with her auntie."

Claudette sighed. "Well, if you think it might do some good, be my guest."

"I'll try," Michaela said, patting her arm reassuringly.

Claudette sniffled. "Michaela, if she won't do it � could you stand up for me at my wedding? I know it's inappropriate, you being married. But, if Mollie refuses to do it I have no one else."

Michaela felt truly sorry for her sister at that moment. "Oh, Claudette."

"I'll pay you," Claudette added.

"What? You don't have to pay me. I'm your sister. Of course I'll stand up with you. I don't care if it's inappropriate. I could care less if some wedding etiquette manual says it's inappropriate."

"Oh, thank you, Michaela." Claudette dabbed at her cheeks with her hankie. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"Oh, don't worry, Michaela. It's normal," Elizabeth said as she fed the baby her bottle at the head of the table. "Mollie and Claudette have been fighting like this since Mollie learned to speak."

Michaela tied her apron around her waist. "But shouldn't we at least try to help them mend their differences? We're family. Mother, Mollie won't even be in her wedding. Claudette's taking it all so hard."

"It's the red hair, dear. Not much you can do about that. I knew the second I saw Mollie for the first time we were in for it."

"There you are," Michaela said as the boys came down the stairs. "Tired from all your lines? I'm cooking you a big breakfast." She put a skillet on the stove to heat up as Sully and Katie set the table.

"Mama, we gotta tell you something," Byron began unsteadily.

"Oh?"

"It's important," Red Eagle added.

She put her towel on the counter and walked toward them. "All right. What is it? You have my full attention."

Byron looked at Red Eagle for support and he nodded.

"Mama, that day your clinic burned down, we did something bad," Byron began in a whisper.

She gazed at them, perplexed. "Bad? What do you mean?"

"We � " He swallowed hard. "We were upstairs and we were �"

"You were what?" she prompted.

"We were playing with matches," he whispered.

Sully took a step forward. Michaela just looked all the more confused.

"I don't understand," she finally said.

Red Eagle shrugged. "We wanted to see if they would light. And they did."

Tears Byron had been struggling to hold back flowed down his cheeks. "We started the fire, Mama. It wasn�t Harrington. We threw out the matches and they musta caught fire after we left."

Michaela breathed deeply for a long moment. "You started the fire," she echoed.

Red Eagle nodded tearfully.

"How many times?!" she suddenly exclaimed. "How many times have I told you never to play with matches?! You could have been hurt! You could have been killed!" She took a deep breath. "And what about Loren? Mr. Bray's lucky he made it out of there alive! What were you doing?!"

Red Eagle started crying right along with Byron. "I don't know, Mama. We just did it. We didn't think."

"Obviously you weren't thinking!" she cried. "My clinic burned to the ground! You realize that, don't you?"

"I'm sorry we burned it down," Byron said with a hiccup. "We didn't mean it. We'll do chores. We'll work it off, Ma."

"I'm so sorry, Ma. We're sorry, Mama," Red Eagle added tearfully.

"I'm sorry. I'll work it off," Byron echoed.

"Work it off. Work it off!" She shook her head. "Do you know how long you would be working off something like this?!"

Byron hiccupped again. "I don't know. A long t-time."

"Your father and I don't even know if we'll ever be able to rebuild, do you understand that? It costs hundreds and hundreds of dollars to run a medical practice. Thousands. You can't just replace something like that! You can't just work it off!"

"Why were ya playin' with matches?" Sully asked. "You know how easy a fire can start."

The boys didn't know what else to say now. They just kept crying and shaking their heads.

"How could you do this?!" Michaela cried. She sighed and glanced at Elizabeth. "I can't. I can't. Mother, could you please � could you please just take them out of the room right now?"

Elizabeth got up and put her arm gently around Byron. "Come along, children. Come with Grandma."

The boys sobbed and gasped as Elizabeth led them to her room off the back hallway and closed her door after the three of them. They could hear Michaela going on and on to Sully about it all, her voice raised and etched with anger and disbelief.

"We didn't mean it, Gran'ma," Red Eagle sobbed.

Elizabeth sat on her bed and gathered them close, letting them cry on her shoulders.

The skillet on the stove was smoking. Sully grabbed a towel and took it off the burner.

"Sully, how could they do this?" Michaela went on.

He leaned against the counter and folded his arms. Katie was silently crying at the table and Eliza was watching her mother with wide eyes from her high chair.

"All this time the entire town has been going after that poor homeless man," Michaela added. "All this time! God knows how long Harrington's had to sit in the jail cell. And now they tell me they did this?" She suddenly burst into tears and held onto the table with both hands desperately.

Sully walked over to her and rubbed her back. "Michaela, it's all right. Take some deep breaths."

"It's not all right, Sully!" she cried. "This is not all right!"

"Michaela!" Elizabeth suddenly shouted.

She stopped crying and looked up.

Elizabeth hurried back into the room with her arm Byron. The little boy was hunched over and gasping. His eyes were rolled back and unfocused. Red Eagle draped Byron's arm over his shoulder and was helping to guide him into the room.

"Michaela, he's having an attack. It's bad," Elizabeth said.

Michaela forget everything of the past few minutes and sprung into action. She lifted the little boy onto the table. "Mother, hold him. Rub his chest. Sully, hurry. My medical bag."

Red Eagle grasped his brother's hand tearfully. "It's all right, Byron. It's all right."

Sully had already taken off to get her bag in the other room. He took out the bottle of chloroform and doused a cloth.

Michaela held his face in her hands. His lips were turning blue. His entire history with asthma flashed before her eyes. His first attack was when he was a happy and adorable, articulate three-year-old and the joy of her life. She had been absolutely devastated, but Byron had always been fairly upbeat and easy going about his asthma, rarely complaining or protesting when Michaela wanted him to try this treatment or that. Over the years he had suffered through more attacks than she could count. But as he got older it finally seemed to be under control. They had learned how to recognize an attack before it became very serious and stop it right away. He could go for months at one point without an attack. That is until her clinic burned down and his asthma returned with a vengeance.

Michaela had always feared deep down the disease was going to kill him eventually. One day, she feared, there would be an attack they wouldn't be able to get under control. And now her worst fears were coming true.

"Byron, monkey. Look at me," Michaela said. "Look at Mama. Try to take little breaths. Breathe in the chloroform." She held the cloth over his mouth.

"Come on, son. Breathe it in," Sully said hoarsely. "Breathe it in."

Michaela patted his cheek. "Byron, open your eyes. Look at Mama."

The little boy slowly opened his eyes.

"That's the way. Yes. Breathe," she instructed.

His wheezing slowly stopped and he began to breathe more normally. Tears welled in his eyes and he leaned forward and hugged Michaela.

"Are you all right?" Michaela asked.

"Yeah, I think so. I'm sorry."

"Shh, hush," she said, rubbing his back.

"No, I'm sorry, Mama," Byron went on. "I'm sorry I burned down your clinic."

"Oh, sweetheart. I just wish you had come to me right away," she replied. "Why did you keep this to yourselves all this time?"

"We didn't want you to be mad," Red Eagle explained quietly. "We didn't want you to h-hate us."

"You can hate us, it's all right," Byron whispered, pulling back and rubbing his nose. "We did a r-really bad th-thing."

Michaela looked at Sully emotively, then back at the boys. "Oh, sweethearts. I don't hate you. Of course not." She shook her head and enveloped both of them in a big hug. "Is this what you've been so upset about all this time? It just, it scares Mama to think about you playing with matches. You could have been seriously hurt."

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," Byron said, hugging her tightly. "Your doctor things. They burned up."

"It's just a building. It's just things. Thank God you weren't hurt," she replied, stroking their hair. "I'm only sorry you didn't come to me before. All this time you kept this to yourselves." She kissed their cheeks. "There's nothing you can't tell Mama and Papa, you know that, don't you? I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't come to us."

"We wanted to tell you," Byron said. "We had to. You always say tell the truth."

"I'm proud of ya for tellin' the truth today," Sully spoke up. "For facin' up to it. You're really growin' up."

"I'm proud of you, too," Michaela added. "I know how hard that was." She kissed them again. "Here, let's wash your faces. Then we'll all have a good breakfast together, all right? We'll talk about it some more once we've all had something to eat."

Mollie picked at her egg in the egg cup, a scowl on her face. "I don't want to meet him."

"I don't care. You're meeting him," Claudette ordered. She sipped at her coffee at the breakfast table in the hotel dining room.

Martha handed Mollie a platter. "Bacon, dearie?"

"No, thank you. I don't eat meat anymore. I'm a vegetarian," Mollie announced.

"A what?" Martha said blankly.

"Since when?" Claudette retorted.

"Since six months ago. Why?"

"Oh, good Lord. You're not a Christian anymore?"

"What does that have to do being a vegetarian, Mother?"

"Don't play dumb with me. I know all about those Eastern religions perforating San Francisco. Buddhists and the like. And none of them eat meat."

"Oh, please," Mollie said. "You and your notions."

"I suppose William Hearst doesn't eat meat either, is that why you've taken this up? No wonder you're so emaciated. You look more like you belong down in Four Corners. Eat some bacon right now before you waste away. Martha, give her some bacon."

Martha picked up the platter helplessly.

"You can't force me to eat it, Mother," Mollie said, putting down her spoon. "You can control a lot of things in my life, but you can't control what I put in my stomach!"

"Oh, really? We'll see about that!" Claudette cried.

"Uh, good morning," Preston announced.

The three women looked up at him, noticing him standing there for the first time.

"Is everything all right with your breakfast?" he asked.

"It's fine. Thank you," Mollie said smugly.

"Mollie, this is my father," Preston said awkwardly, drawing him forward. "Preston Lodge the second."

"Charmed, miss," Preston Sr. said dryly, taking her hand and kissing it.

"Likewise," she said with a false grin.

"Please, join us, dear," Claudette invited.

"Oh, yes of course." He pulled out two chairs and he and his father sat down. A waiter came over promptly and poured them each a cup of coffee.

"Mollie was just telling us about a little phase she's going through with vegetarianism," Claudette explained as she buttered some toast.

"Phase!" Mollie cried. "It's no such thing!"

"How old are you, exactly?" Preston Sr. asked.

Mollie regarded him skeptically. "Twenty-one, why do you ask?"

"And your brother? How old is he?"

"William's nineteen," Claudette said. "He'll be here in time for the wedding, he promised."

"You're sure you're up to fathering these full-grown children, Preston?" his father asked, slapping him on the back. "Too bad you couldn't start when they were a little younger, didn't quite think so independently yet!"

Preston eyed him impatiently. "I think Claudette's children are lovely, Father," he said resolutely. "I adore independent thinking."

Mollie gave him a small, appreciative smile.

"Actually, Preston, dear," Claudette began tentatively. "Michaela had a bit of a good idea about all that. About children. Heirs."

"Dr. Quinn," Preston Sr. said with loathing. "What does she know about it?"

"Children?" Preston blurted.

"Well, she suggested we visit the local orphanage. Adopt a needy child from there."

Preston Sr. cracked a smile for the first time the entire trip. "There! Now that is a wonderful idea!"

"It is?" Mollie blurted.

"It is?" Preston said. He touched her back. "Claudette, be reasonable. An infant in this hotel? We're both going to be so busy running it and the bank too, how would we ever manage? And sleepless nights, I don't know if I'm up for that. And neither are my hotel guests. He would wake the entire premises, I'd lose all my business."

"Well, we wouldn't have to adopt an infant," she explained. "I was thinking a child who's older. Five or so perhaps. Perhaps a boy."

"A boy! Yes, of course!" Preston Sr. said enthusiastically, clutching his cane. "You could name him Preston the fourth. And I would bequeath a portion of my estate to him, naturally." He was so thrilled he pounded the table for emphasis.

"Besides, it wouldn't be all too bad. Martha could be his nanny and look after him while we're working," Claudette explained.

Martha raised her eyebrows, but kept quiet.

"Dump him on the nanny, just like you did to me," Mollie said. "What a splendid idea, Mother. I give you about two months before you've ruined that child completely. I'm going to Auntie Michaela's. Au revoir."

"Oh, she knows I hate French. I wanted her to take Latin," Claudette muttered.

Mollie stormed off, her nose in the air.

"I'm sorry. She always gets like this when she doesn't eat," Claudette said helplessly.

"You must go to that orphanage at once and pick out a child," Preston Sr. said as he stirred his coffee. "Or write away at least for a description of their selection. Photographs if they have them."

"Father, it's not like ordering a new suit," Preston said.

"Well, we need to discuss it more," Claudette said. "And I don't know about Preston but I'd like to be married for a little while before we bring a child into our relationship. But I'm � I'm open to it. If Preston is."

Preston smiled faintly. "Well, I suppose so. If it's what you really want, Claudette."

"Yes," she said whimsically. "Yes, I think I'd like to have another child. It might be amusing. Charles always wanted more children, but then he passed on and � " She trailed off and stirred her coffee.

"This is the most brilliant idea I've ever heard from a Quinn," Preston Sr. announced. "I adore it. I can't wait to be a grandfather again." He got up and kissed Claudette's cheek. Claudette looked up at him in shock. "Speaking of suits, where's my suit for the wedding? I don't believe I've tried it on yet."

"Well, it's � it's-" Claudette stammered.

"I have it, sir," Martha spoke up helpfully, getting up. "Would you be wanting to try it on now, sir?"

"Yes, miss. Would you mind helping me?"

"Not at all. Let's go," she said as she led him out of the room.

Claudette smiled at Preston. "Michaela was right. A compromise."

"You certainly had him going," he said wryly.

"Would you like that, dear? Would you like a son with me?" she asked.

He gazed at her and grasped her hand. "I'd love to have a child with you. I just never thought we could, that's all. I accepted it and moved on."

"Mollie's right, I made for a lousy mother. I hope you don't mind."

"You couldn't possibly be a bad mother," he said. "You're far too beautiful."

She chuckled. "I don't think the two are related."

"Besides, we'd be raising him together," he said. "The two of us, why, we couldn't be that terrible with a child, could we? Not if we work together."

"Well, then. It's settled."

"And so you see, it was the boys who started the fire," Michaela explained as she clutched the bars of Harrington's jail cell. "It was an accident of course, and they're both enormously sorry. And we're all so sorry you had to sit in jail for so long." She glanced at Sully, who was looking extremely troubled. "If there's anything we can do to help, Harrington."

Harrington just looked back at her with a wrinkled brow.

Matthew unlocked the jail cell. "You can come out, Harrington. I'm lettin' ya go."

"Get your things. You're free," Michaela encouraged.

Harrington reluctantly walked to his cot and gathered his pack, then walked out of the cell.

"Here, why don't we take you to the caf� and buy you something to eat?" Michaela suggested, grasping his arm.

He brushed her hand off. "Dr. Mike, it wasn't your sons," he said firmly. "I'd hate to see you blame them."

"What do you mean?" Michaela blurted. "But they told us. They were playing with matches upstairs."

"They may have been playing with matches, but I don't think they started that fire."

Matthew eyed him. "You know who started it? Was it you?"

"No, it wasn't me either."

"Who was it?" Sully spoke up.

Harrington sighed. "I'm sorry, I can't tell you."

Michaela's face fell. "Harrington, you have to. If you know who did this you have to speak up!"

"That's a crime, obstructin' justice," Matthew told him.

"Then I'll sit in jail again. I just, I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

Matthew shook his head at him disapprovingly and guided him back into the cell. "Maybe a couple more weeks in there'll help change your mind."

"Michaela, come 'ere," Sully murmured as he opened the door.

She reluctantly followed him outside, shutting the door.

He rested one hand on the hitching post. "I don't think the kids started that fire. And Harrington didn't do it either. He ain't lyin'. I can see it in his eyes."

"If they didn't do it who did?" she exclaimed. "Harrington, Loren and the boys are the only people who could have caused it. And now you're saying it wasn't any of them?"

"That fire wasn't caused by just a match. It was arson. More I think about it more it makes sense."

"How can you tell?" Michaela asked.

"How hot it was, for one. The way it burned everything to the ground. It had fuel. Kerosene, maybe. And how some places looked hotter than others. Like somebody poured kerosene in certain spots."

"You're sure about this?" Michaela said.

"I'm sure. And so is Cloud Dancin'. I just ... I didn't wanna tell ya. Guess I didn't wanna make ya any more upset than ya already were. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Sully. But arson. Who would do such a thing?"

"I don't know. Somebody who wanted to make sure you never practiced medicine again."

Michaela suddenly turned very pale. "Mr. Sawyer."

Matthew unraveled a map of eastern Colorado across the kitchen table and secured one corner with a vase while Sully held down the other. Michaela had two saddle bags on the counter and was laying out dried beef, flour, salt, canteens and other supplies. Elizabeth found a sack of beans on the shelves and put it beside the other dry goods.

Matthew pointed toward the right on the map. "This is Burlington, where Mr. Sawyer says he's from."

"I don't see it on there," Michaela said.

Katie stood beside the table worriedly and held Martha's hand.

"It's a small town. Isn't on the map," Matthew explained. "But it's about a hundred and fifty miles due east. Should take about three days. Two if we push the horses."

Elizabeth sighed. "I don't see why you can't just wire their sheriff and have him take care of this matter."

"Last I knew they don't have a sheriff," Matthew explained. "Sides, we don't wanna do anything that might make him run."

"He's guilty. He's gonna run the second he gets wind somebody's found him out," Sully said.

"How long do you have to go, Ma?" Katie whispered.

Michaela came to her side and smoothed her hair. "I'm not sure, sweetheart. Not too long I hope."

Her eyes welled with tears and she held her nanny's hand all the tighter. "Could Martha stay with us until you get back? Sleep over?"

Michaela hesitated and met Martha's eyes.

"Please, Mama? Please?" Katie begged.

Michaela sighed. "Well, I suppose. If Martha doesn't mind."

Martha smiled. "No, miss. I'll stay."

Katie hugged Martha gratefully. "Good. I'm glad you're staying, Martha."

"Come along, now, dearie," Martha said, leading her out of the room. "Let's leave the adults to plan their trip and we'll go play with your paper dolls, hm?"

"Dr. Mike, listen, maybe you should stay behind," Matthew said quietly. "Sully and I can handle this."

"Matthew's right," Sully added.

"No, I want to go," she replied.

Matthew leaned forward on the table. "This man's dangerous. He burned down your clinic, coulda hurt a lotta people. No telling what he's capable of. Maybe he still wants to hurt you, who knows."

"It was my clinic, Matthew. And his son was my patient. I should be there when we confront him. I'm going," she said firmly.

He rolled up his map. "All right, suit yourself. We leave at first light tomorrow."

"Here are the boys' suits for the wedding," Claudette announced as she entered the homestead without knocking. She held up two garments on hangers draped in tissue paper. "The hotel tailor just finished pressing them."

The family was finishing up supper in the dining room. The boys gave the suits a skeptical glance.

"Leave it to you to interrupt dinner, Mother," Mollie announced. "How courteous of you."

"I don't want to wear a new suit," Byron spoke up as he picked at his carrots. "I wanna wear the suit I have, Auntie."

"That dreadful thing?" Claudette breathed. "Absolutely not. Not at my wedding! Go upstairs right now and try these on, make sure they fit right."

"Not tonight, Claudette," Michaela said. "They still have homework to finish and they need to get to bed. It's a school night."

"Well, when?" Claudette demanded.

She took a sip of coffee. "I don't know. When Sully and I get back form Burlington we can take care of all of this. Don't worry." She glanced at Byron's plate. "Finish your vegetables. You too, Katie."

"And finish your milk," Martha added. "It makes you strong."

Red Eagle giggled and flexed an arm muscle.

"Burlington? What? Where's that? Why are you going there?" Claudette demanded crossly. She draped the suits across one of the wingback chairs.

"Pa of one of her patients that died lives there," Sully explained quietly. "We think he mighta had somethin' to do with the fire."

"Oh, dear. But must you go now? The wedding's in six days! Can't you take care of this some other time?"

"We won't be gone long," Michaela said. She fed the baby another spoonful of mashed up carrots Martha had prepared for her.

"You can't go now. There's so much to do!" Claudette bemoaned. "Michaela, I need your help!"

"I'll help you, dearie," Martha offered quietly.

"I'll help, too, of course," Elizabeth added. "Don't worry."

Michaela cleared her throat awkwardly. "We'll be back in plenty of time for wedding. I promise." She got up and grasped her arm. "Why don't you take a seat, have some pie with us? It's going to be fine."

"You'd better not ruin my wedding, Michaela," Claudette announced. "You always do this. You can't stand the attention not being on you!"

"Oh, yes, that's exactly what this is about! Auntie just wants attention!" Mollie said with a sarcastic role of her eyes. "Mother, please. Not everything is about you. You want everyone's lives to stop just because of your silly wedding. Well, I have news for you, that's not going to happen."

"Cherry or apple?" Michaela spoke up desperately.

"I still don't understand why you gotta go," Red Eagle said as Sully tucked the covers around him.

"We just wanna talk to Mr. Sawyer," Sully replied. "We won't be gone long."

"Boys, there's something we need to explain to you," Michaela said as she sat on Byron's bed. "I appreciate you telling me that you were playing with matches. That took a lot of courage. But we don't think it was those matches that burned down the clinic."

"It wasn't?" Byron blurted. "But it had to be."

"Yeah, we were playing with fire, Ma," Red Eagle added. "And then a couple hours later your clinic burned down."

Michaela glanced at Sully. "I know. But unfortunately we think someone set that fire maliciously. On purpose. It was just a coincidence you were playing with matches the same day."

"On purpose?" Byron breathed. "But � but how do you know?"

"There's ways to tell when a fire was started intentionally," she explained. "The way it burned. Hot spots. The important thing is we don't want you feeling responsible for what happened."

Byron took a deep breath and let it out. He felt like it was the deepest breath he had taken since the fire happened. "Boy, am I glad to hear that!" he announced. "I mean, I'm glad it wasn't us."

"We felt so bad, Ma," Red Eagle said.

"I know. I know." She smoothed Byron's hair. "I think that's why perhaps your asthma was acting up? You were so worried about the fire?"

Byron shrugged. "I sure was worried."

"Me, too," Red Eagle said.

"It was still wrong of you to play with matches," Michaela said. "That could have been very dangerous and your father and I will discuss your punishment later. But we were lucky that nothing came of it. You didn't cause the fire, and thank goodness you didn't hurt yourselves. That's all I care about. And I'm very proud of you for coming to us and telling us what happened, for being honest and facing the consequences."

"But then, who burned your clinic?" Red Eagle said. "Mr. Sawyer?"

"We ain't sure," Sully said. "That's why we gotta talk to him."

"I don't know why somebody would do that," Byron whispered. "You help sick people. You're a good doctor."

She kissed his head. "Not everyone feels that way."

"We'll miss you," Red Eagle said.

"And we'll miss you," Michaela said lovingly. "So much."

Matthew road his horse down to the creek bed and loosened the reins. His horse lowered his head and took a big drink. Michaela followed on Flash and Sully on Buck. All three of the horses lapped up the water eagerly.

Matthew glanced up. "It's gettin' late. I think we oughta make camp here."

Michaela shook her head. "We should keep going. Let's keep going."

"Dr. Mike, makin' camp in the dark's never easy."

"We'll manage." She got out her canteen and took a long drink.

Sully glanced at her. She was certainly tired after a long day of riding, but determined to press on through. They were all getting tired, dusty and sore from sitting in a saddle all day. But it was important they find Mr. Sawyer as soon as possible.

"We'll keep goin'," Sully said in support.

"All right. It's up to you," Matthew said. He turned his horse around and kicked him, guiding him back up the bank and out to the road.

Red Eagle raced the velocipede around Michaela's garden, down to the barn fence and then around the old oak tree. The children were all still a little too small to comfortably pedal the contraption, but that didn't stop them from wanting to play with it anyway.

"Hurry, hurry!" Byron called from the porch. He was holding his grandmother's pocket watch and watching the seconds tick.

Red Eagle came tearing up to the porch, panting exhaustedly. "There!" he announced.

"Fifty-two seconds," Byron said.

"You sure?" Red Eagle said, glancing at the watch and getting off the velocipede.

"Course I'm sure. I know how to tell time."

"My turn, my turn!" Katie said, grabbing the handle bars.

"You'll never beat my time," Red Eagle said, crossing his arms skeptically.

She got on the seat and glanced at Byron. "Yes, I will. I�m older. And bigger. Watch."

"Ready. Set. Go!" Byron said.

"Girls. Think they can do everything better than us," Red Eagle muttered as Katie took off toward the garden.

"Go, Katie! Go!" Byron shouted, looking at the watch.

"Hey, don't cheer her on. Thought you were on my side," Red Eagle said.

Byron glanced at him. "Oh. I am. I'm just trying to be nice."

Red Eagle giggled and gave him a playful shove.

Katie made a quick turn around the corner of the garden, the handle bars wobbling dangerously. Suddenly the wheel slid to one side and Katie lost her balance and went careening face first toward the ground. She raised her hands up just in time to break her fall.

"Katie!" Red Eagle cried.

Katie untangled her petticoats from the velocipede, took one look at her bloody palms and burst into panicked tears.

"Nanny Martha! Emergency! Emergency!" Byron shouted with all his might.

Martha opened the front door, a dishtowel over her shoulder. "Children, what is it?"

Byron pointed toward the garden. "Katie fell! Hurry!"

Martha gathered her skirts and followed the boys over to Katie.

The little girl was gasping for breath and practically bawling. Her palms were scraped up and she had a little scrape on her chin. Martha patted her back.

"Took a little spill, did we, dearie?"

"A b-big�big one," she gasped. "M-Mar-th-tha!"

"Oh, there, there!" Martha soothed. "Come now. We'll take you inside and clean you up and you'll be good as new." She pulled Katie to her feet and led her out of the garden.

"Does she need an operation?" Red Eagle asked.

"Take her app-dix out like Mr. Bray," Byron suggested.

Martha chuckled. "No, of course not! She'll be fine. Go get the velocipede and return it to the barn, yes, boys? I think that's enough of that today, don�t you?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said, walking over to the prostrate contraption.

"Martha, it hurts! It hurts!" Katie whined as she held her palms up and staggered toward the back door of the house.

"Ah, yes, scrapes are nasty, aren't they?" Martha said. "I've seen quite a few in my day!" Martha opened the back door and led her inside. "Oh, there, there! There, there!"

Elizabeth was dozing in her room and immediately woke up when Katie came in the house crying and carrying on at the top of her lungs.

"Martha!" she called. "Martha, what is it?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all, Mrs. Quinn. I have it under control," Martha called back. She boosted Katie onto the table and brought over a basin of water, a cloth, and a bottle of iodine from below the sink.

"Open your hands, dearie. Let's see them."

"No. No," she protested.

"Let's see now. Be a good girl," Martha said, gently prodding her hands open. "There we are. Oh, my goodness. No wonder you're crying." She wet the cloth and tenderly cleaned off some of the blood.

"I�. want � my �. mama!" Katie sobbed miserably. "I � want �. Mommy!"

Martha put the cloth aside and drew her into a hug, kissing her forehead. "Oh, Katie dear. It's all right. We all want our mummy when something like this happens, don't we?"

She nodded despairingly and hugged her nanny tightly.

"Katie? Do you know this very same thing happened to your mother when she was your age?"

Katie looked up at her, a little intrigued. "It d-did?"

Martha resumed cleaning off her hands. "Oh, yes. She was being a naughty girl and hanging onto the back of a buggy as it came past the house. Trying to hitch a ride she was!"

Katie hiccupped. "Mama did that?"

"You can be assured she did! I saw the whole thing from the master bedroom as I was helping your grandmother change."

Katie grinned softly. "Mama was naughty."

Martha chuckled. "Oh, yes, she could be! Well, as you can expect she lost her grip and face down into the cobblestone she went. Nearly lost a tooth she did!"

Katie sniffled as Martha carefully spread some iodine across her wounds. She bit her lip against the stinging pain. "Did she get in trouble?"

Martha tore up some strips of cloth. "Oh, yes. Banished to her room for a week I think she was." She chuckled and carefully wrapped up each of Katie's hands with the cloth. She gazed at the child for a moment and tapped her nose. Her tears had stopped and she was slowly getting control of her breathing. "Would you like some warm milk and cinnamon?"

She hiccupped again. "Yes. Yes, please."

"All right then," Martha said, walking to the stove to light a fire.

"Martha? I like your stories about Mama. It makes me not miss her so much."

Martha smiled faintly. "Good. Good."

Matthew stirred a pot of steaming beans over the campfire as Sully sat beside him and studied the map. It had been another long day of riding and they hadn't stopped to make camp until about eight o'clock that night, long past sundown.

"Looks like there's a small trail off the main road that goes to Burlington," Sully said. "Might put us there a little earlier."

"Roads as rough as they are, hate to see what a trail looks like," Matthew said.

Michaela walked to the fire carrying a bucket of water and a cloth. She was no more refreshed after washing off all the dust and dirt from the road. Two days of riding had been hard on her. Sully suspected that after weeks of worrying about her clinic and money and everything else, and now to be traveling so hard and long like this, it was probably all catching up. She had been uncharacteristically quiet most of the evening and hadn't protested when Matthew took over making supper for the three of them.

"Sure makes ya wonder if the railroad'll ever make it out to these parts," Matthew went on. "We barely saw a soul the whole day." He dished up the beans onto three tin plates. Eastern Colorado was largely grasslands and ranches, with very few towns or other signs of civilization. Aside from the herds of livestock they often passed, they were very alone as they made their way to Burlington.

"Some ranchers want the railroad. Transport the cattle easier," Sully said. He folded up the map and put it in Matthew's pack.

"Then what's gonna happen to the cowboys?"

"Railroad's replacin' everybody," he replied. "Even cowboys."

"Guess you're right."

Matthew picked up the first plate and put a fork in it. "Here ya go, Dr. Mike." He glanced at her across the fire when she didn't reply. She was reclined on her bedroll, her head propped up on Sully's satchel. "Dr. Mike?"

Sully quietly stepped toward her and crouched down. Michaela was sound asleep. He carefully unlaced his bedroll and spread it across her. She shifted a little under his touch, taking a deep breath, and slept on. He gave her cheek a gentle caress.

"Let her sleep," he whispered, rejoining Matthew and picking up his plate. "She needs it."

Matthew nodded and stirred his food. "We'll be there before nightfall tomorrow."

"Now Loren, if you were to donate just twenty dollars worth of toys, the church bazaar would have all the prizes they need for the children," the Reverend remarked as he warmed his hands over Loren's stove.

"Twenty dollars!" Loren grumbled. "Last week you said I only needed to donate ten."

"Oh. I did?" the Reverend replied. "Well, we really need twenty. You'll do it, won't you, Loren? It's for a good cause."

"Fine. Twenty it is." He carried his ladder over to a shelf. "You're gonna make me go broke with this darn fool bazaar."

"What bazaar?" Faye asked as she and Kirk entered the store. Kirk was carrying Danielle on his hip.

"Oh, Faye, you haven't been around here lately," the Reverend said with a smile.

"It's Jack's first day out," she said proudly. She was wearing a leather sling Kirk had made her borrowing Sully's design. Jack was nestled inside, wrapped in a light blue quilt and asleep.

"How's the little one?" Loren asked, brightening and peering into the sling.

"Oh, he's doin' great. Thanks, Mr. Bray," Kirk said. He put his hand on Faye's shoulder. "Say, Reverend, we were wonderin' if we could meet with ya sometime about his Christenin'."

"Oh, sure. How's after church on Sunday?"

Kirk smiled. "Perfect."

"It's real important to us he's Christened right away, starts off life on the right foot," Faye added. "Now what's this bazaar you were talkin' about?"

"Oh. We're planning a church bazaar to raise money for the new Bibles we need," the Reverend said. "The first of the month."

"Oh, that sounds like fun," Faye remarked.

"Loren's donating the prizes," the Reverend added.

"Don't remind me," Loren muttered.

"Here they are," Dorothy announced, walking into the store carrying a stack of flyers. "Hot off the press." She smiled at the Davises. "Oh, Faye and Kirk! Good morning! How's everybody?"

Faye rocked the baby. "Just fine, Miss Dorothy. Are you comin' to the bazaar, too?"

"Wouldn't miss it. I'm runnin' a booth. We're gonna have fishin' poles and the children fish for a toy."

"Oh, that's so sweet!" Faye said delightedly.

"Loren, I'm gonna nail a flyer outside your store," Dorothy said. "Where do you want the rest, Reverend?"

"Well, let's see. One in the caf�, one over at the train station. Maybe another at the boarding house. And maybe outside Dr. Mike's clinic, too. I know it's not there anymore, but a lotta folks still go by that way."

"That's a good idea."

"Any word on when they're gonna start rebuilding? I thought they'd be started by now," the Reverend asked.

Dorothy sighed. "Well, I think it's gonna be awhile. Not since Preston turned down their loan." She quickly covered her mouth with one hand. "I mean, things like that take time, Reverend."

"Preston turned down their loan?" the Reverend breathed. "That's not what Dr. Mike told me."

"Oh, I wasn't supposed to say anything," Dorothy said petulantly. "I promised."

"Dr. Mike told us she had a loan, too," Kirk spoke up. "Now you're sayin' she doesn't? What happened?"

"That's what she told me, too," Loren added. "She said Preston was helping her out."

Dorothy sighed. "Well, turns out Preston didn't think they were such a good risk. I don't know, she didn't want folks feeling sorry for her, I s'pose. She hasn't let on to hardly anybody the real truth."

"You mean all this time we thought she had everything taken care of, that everything was gonna be fine, and she's been sittin' at home unable to do a thing to rebuild her clinic?" Faye said in disbelief. "Why, I just thought she was spendin' all day ordering new instruments and things like that. Miss Dorothy, why didn't she say something?! We coulda helped!"

"How?" Loren replied. "Nobody here's got enough money to rebuild her clinic either. You know how much that kind of thing costs, young lady?"

"Well, no," Faye said timidly. "A lot?"

"Right. A lot, that's how much," Loren retorted.

The Reverend stepped forward with his cane. "One person can't rebuild it. But a lot of folks could."

"What do ya mean?" Kirk asked.

"We could donate the money from the bazaar to Michaela," the Reverend said. "To go towards rebuilding her practice. We can get new Bibles some other time."

"Oh, Michaela's not gonna like that one bit," Dorothy said. "She didn't want anybody to know!"

"We could keep it a secret," Faye said. "Present her with the money after the bazaar. She can't turn it down."

"Sides, way I see it the hospital is somethin' that benefits the whole town," Kirk said. "Ain't such a bad thing for the whole town to pitch in."

"You'll never raise enough money to rebuild it," Loren said pessimistically.

"We will if folks like you make a generous donation," the Reverend said.

"It always falls on me, don't it?" Loren replied.

Dorothy handed Kirk a few flyers. "Here, tell all your friends. Let them know all the profits are goin' to Michaela's new clinic. Loren, I'm gonna put up two flyers on your store. One on each door."

"Don't ask me or anything," Loren said.

Dorothy ignored him. "Reverend, I'll be back this afternoon. We have a lot to plan!"

"We sure do!" he replied.

"Can I help?" Faye asked.

"Yes, of course. Everybody that wants to meet back here at the store in two hours."

"We'll be here," Kirk vowed.

"That's to Mr. William Randolph Hearst, Matthews Hall Dormitory, Harvard University. Cambridge, Massachusetts," Mollie said as she stood at the counter. She counted out a few bills and placed them on the counter.

"I'll send that right off, miss," Horace said, walking over to his telegraph.

"Penning love letters again?" Claudette remarked as she waited on the train station bench holding her parasol across her lap.

"Love telegrams, if you must know," Mollie retorted.

"How much did you spend this time?"

"You're one to criticize me about money!" Mollie cried, joining her at the bench.

The train whistle echoed in the distance and smoke began appearing on the horizon.

Dorothy walked up the train station platform carrying a hammer and her stack of flyers. "Horace, I have something for the church bazaar printed up," she called, pausing at the window. "Could I put it up outside?"

"Sure thing," he called back as he tapped on his telegraph.

Dorothy smiled at the women on the bench. "Good afternoon, Miss Atkins. Mollie."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Jennings," Mollie said politely.

"Hope you two can make it to the church bazaar next week," Dorothy said.

"Sounds lovely," Claudette muttered.

"I'm afraid I'll be back home in San Francisco by then," Mollie said.

Dorothy walked over to them as the train pulled into the station. "Don't tell Michaela, but we're going to give all the proceeds to her. To rebuild her practice."

"Oh, how generous!" Mollie said with a smile. "Auntie's going to be thrilled!"

"How kind of you," Claudette added.

Dorothy smiled and positioned the flyer on the bulletin board, nailing it in with her hammer.

Claudette got to her feet and shielded her eyes as passengers began disembarking. She searched the train windows. "I think I see him. Wills?"

"If you and my new stepfather donated just a fraction of your fortune, Auntie could rebuild her practice in no time," Mollie remarked.

"Let's not discuss it, dear," Claudette said.

"You were always miserly," Mollie accused. "I had to wear my pinafores until they were practically in tatters because you wouldn't buy me any new ones."

"Your memory's rather hazy, my dear," Claudette remarked. "That never happened."

"It did so. Ask Dolly."

"Mother!" William shouted. A tall, handsome young man with a mop of wavy brown hair bounded down the train steps and ran toward them, carrying a small suitcase. He dropped it on the platform and lifted Claudette off her feet. "Oh, so good to see you!"

"Oh, Wills!" Claudette cried. "How was your trip?"

"Just great!" William laughed with delight and hugged Mollie. "Sis!"

"You're a breath of fresh air, Wills," she said as he spun her around and gave her a big kiss.

"And you keep gettin' prettier! I hate how all my friends always wanna know when my sister is moving back to Boston," he said teasingly.

"Never," Mollie announced.

Claudette caressed his rosy cheek. "You're getting too much sun, darling. You know how we all tend to burn so easily."

"Oh, playing rugby in the courtyard too much I suppose," he said with a chuckle.

"You know, you never did make a donation to my finishing school," Mollie said, glancing at Claudette. "Even though all the other parents did. It was so mortifying."

"Well, you mortify me, too, dear, so I suppose we're even," Claudette remarked.

William stared at the two of them, taken aback.

"Where's the rest of your luggage, dear?" Claudette asked. "You did bring the suit I asked?"

"Yes, don't worry. I brought two trunks of clothes just in case you changed your mind. In the luggage car."

"Good, I'll just tell our driver to load the carriage." Claudette scurried off in search of the hotel driver.

William put his arm around Mollie affectionately. "You two fighting again?"

"When are we not?" Mollie replied with a sigh.

"Wish you didn't have to start with her, sis. Wedding's are supposed to be a good time."

"I didn't start with her. She started with me. Just you wait until you meet our new stepfather. And now did you hear this? She wants to adopt! She did her best to wreck our lives, now she wants to have another child to do the same!"

"Mama's never looked so good, sis. Or been so cheerful. You have to admit."

"She's never been so self-centered either. Auntie's entire medical practice burned down and Mother won't lift a finger to help her."

"It's Quinn pride. We all got a heavy dose of it I'm afraid," he said with a chuckle.

"Oh, Wills. It's so easy for you," Mollie said reverently.

"Easy? What do you mean?"

She bent her head. "You don�t remember what Mother was like � before. When Papa was still alive. When she was happy. We all were happy."

He swallowed hard. "That was a long time ago, Mollie. It doesn't matter anymore." He gave her a gentle shake. "Come on, give me a smile. Come on."

Mollie slowly grinned faintly.

William laughed. "Where can we get a good sarsaparilla around here? I'm parched."

"At the hotel. Let's get you unpacked and settled in."

"This wedding is going to be fun, let me tell you."

She chuckled in disbelief. "I'm glad you're here, Wills."

"You bet I am, too!"

Sully walked into the saloon determinedly and spotted Mr. Sawyer playing a slow card game at a table with two other men. Michaela and Matthew followed quickly behind him.

"Sawyer," Sully said firmly.

Tobias slowly met his eyes, surprised to see him

"How'd ya do it?" Sully demanded, staring down at him lividly. Sully grabbed his collar and shook him. "What was it, kerosene?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mr. Sawyer said, discarding a card.

"Who's this fella think he is, Tobias?" another man at the table asked as he took a sip of whiskey.

"Don't ask me," Mr. Sawyer replied.

"Sully, wait," Michaela said, touching his back.

He shrugged her off and grabbed his arm roughly. "You know exactly what I'm talkin' about. My wife's clinic. Ya burned it down. It's arson! Not to mention a patient of hers was almost killed!" Sully dragged him to his feet and Tobias dropped his cards. "Matthew, arrest him."

"Sully, take it easy," Matthew said. "Mr. Sawyer, look, why don't we just step outside and we'll talk this out."

"I don't got to talk to nobody, boy."

Sully shook him vehemently. "I know it was you! Ya threatened her, before ya left town. Ya said she'd never practice medicine again! Or did that slip your mind, too?"

"Hold it right there, partner," the bartender suddenly shouted, taking out a rifle from behind the bar and pointing it at Sully.

"Sully!" Michaela cried. "He has a gun!"

Matthew grazed his hand over his revolver in the holster.

"Don't you move either, son," the bartender added, cocking the rifle. "Put your hands in the air. All three of ya."

Sully slowly backed off, raising his hands in the air. Michaela and Matthew followed suit.

"Look, mister, we don't want any trouble," Matthew spoke up. "But we got strong evidence Mr. Sawyer here oughta be arrested and charged with a federal offense."

"Look, I heard about that fire," Tobias explained. "But I was back here at the time, I swear I was. What day was it? Maybe I can vouch I wasn't there."

Michaela cleared her throat. "November third. It was a Saturday evening."

"Well, that settles that. I can vouch for him," the bartender said, lowering his rifle and leaning it against the bar. "Tobias was here playin' cards. I remember clear as day. It was the first Saturday he was back in town since he took off for California."

Michaela lowered her hands and shared a glance with Sully.

"He was here, I saw him, too," another man spoke up.

"I can vouch for him, too," another man said. "I took all his money that night." He dug into his back pocket. "See here, I think I still have the note he wrote me." He glared at Tobias. "You still owe me. Thought you said you made a little money in gold dust in Californ-ie. Well, where is it? Cough it up."

"I'll get it to you," Tobias replied. "Hold your horses."

"Let me see that," Matthew said. He took the note and studied it carefully. It was dated November the third, Eighteen eighty-three, and signed by Tobias M. Sawyer. He handed it to Michaela and Sully to look at.

"That the truth? You were here?" Matthew asked.

"It's the truth. And if that ain't enough, we can head over to the preacher and talk to him. He's been stoppin' by my place every afternoon and bringin' me meals since my boy passed on. He can tell you I been here in town since I buried my son. Now how do you suppose I was two places at once, sheriff?"

Matthew studied him a moment longer and Sully was folding his arms and staring at him, too. There was something off, they both sensed it, but there wasn't much more they could do now. Tobias had too many people who had seen him that day.

"Well, sheriff, ya got what ya came for. Now you and your friends can get off my property and leave my customers be," the bartender said.

Matthew handed the man back his note. "Thank you for your time." He nodded at Sully and Michaela. "Come on."

They headed out of the saloon.

"Now what?" Michaela said. "Do we talk to their Reverend?"

"He was here that night, Dr. Mike. Too many folks say so," Matthew said.

"He's lyin'," Sully said firmly. "Matthew, we can't just let him go."

"Sully, I'm sorry. I can't arrest somebody I got no proof against."

"Somethin's wrong about his story. I can't put my finger on it."

Matthew untethered his horse. "I feel the same way. But until we get some real proof, there's nothin' I can do."

"I say we drag it out of him," Sully said. "Make him talk." He turned to head back into the saloon.

"Sully, don't," Michaela said, grabbing his arm. "Please, don't. That bartender's going to shoot you. Sully, please."

Matthew clutched his shoulder. "Sully, look, let's just head back to Colorado Springs. Tobias Sawyer'll still be here we need him again."

"Unless he runs." Sully reluctantly headed to his horse. He watched as Michaela untethered Flash. "Ya all right?" he murmured. "Up to ridin' all night?"

She nodded. "We should get home to the children."

He uncorked his canteen and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she whispered, tipping the canteen back and taking a long drink. Then she handed him back his canteen.

He rubbed her back and gave her head a kiss. "We'll get to the bottom of this, Michaela," he vowed.

"Here's your water," Martha said tiredly, placing a glass beside Byron's bed.

"It's kitchen water?" Byron asked.

"Kitchen water," she affirmed. "I'm positive. Now, you each have your kitchen water, your toys, your extra quilt, your extra pillow and your extra hankie under the pillow. I believe you're ready to go off to war now, you are. Or go to sleep, one or the other!"

Byron and Red Eagle giggled.

"All right then," Martha said, turning down the lamp. "Pleasant dreams. Goodnight."

"Night, Martha," Byron called as she closed the door halfway. "I love you."

She smiled sweetly. "I love you, dearie." She put one hand in her apron pocket and headed down the stairs, heaving a sigh as she went. She nearly collapsed in one of the wingback chairs beside Mollie, who was reading the Gazette.

"All tucked in?" Mollie asked.

"Yes, and halfway to dreamland. Where's Mrs. Quinn?"

"Oh, Grandmother's gone to bed already. She was tired. Speaking of which, Martha, you look genuinely exhausted."

Martha waved her hand dismissively and stood up again, untying her apron that had collected a variety of stains throughout the day with the children, from a splash of watercolor paint to some dried cookie batter to a little mud from the creek.

"Where are you going now?" Mollie asked.

"I need to head over to the hotel. I promised your mother I would help her write out the place markers for the reception. She's expecting me."

"Help her, or do it for her? Martha, for goodness sake it's almost nine o'clock. You need to get to bed. Between looking after my cousins nearly every waking hour and being at my mother's beck and call the rest of the time you must be positively running ragged."

She folded her apron over her arm. "To be honest with you, my dear, it is getting to be a little too much. I'm afraid I'm not as young as I used to be."

"Well, for pity sake quit then!" Mollie encouraged rebelliously, folding her paper. "Retire from all this absurdity that is my family!"

"Quit!" Martha exclaimed. "Oh, dearie, don't be silly. Never."

"Well, if you won't quit at least cut back a little. Why don't you just tell my mother she can just take those precious place markers and stick them-"

"Dearie, now now," Martha interrupted. "She is your mother."

Mollie rolled her eyes. "Not much of one."

"I promised Miss Claudette I'd be her chambermaid out here and I intend to fulfill that. Besides, it's not so bad. Half the time she can't think of anything for me to do. I think sometimes she just likes the company. And so do I as a matter of fact."

"If you won't leave my mother why don't you just tell Auntie Michaela it's too much for you? That you simply can't be her nanny and Mother's chambermaid, too. Something's got to go. Why, you must be spending eighteen hours a day on your feet!"

"Oh, I'd hate to tell Miss Michaela such a thing. She needs me so. She's so tired after working all day she just can't do it all. And the little dearies. What will they do?"

"They'll manage. They managed without you before. The problem with you, Martha, is you're far too caught up in my family's dramatics. It's really not good for one's health. What do you care if Miss Michaela has no one to watch the children, or Miss Claudette has no one to button her up and powder her nose and tell her how wonderful she is? Let them figure it out."

Martha chuckled. "Young people. I adore it. Goodnight, Miss Mollie. Don't stay up too late."

She opened her newspaper again. "Goodnight. And don't tell Mother I said hello!"

Matthew was already asleep on one side of the campfire as Sully built it up for the night. Michaela quietly finished laying out her and Sully's bedrolls next to each other and unfolding an extra blanket for what was turning out to be a chilly night.

Sully placed one last log strategically across the fire and then took a seat on their bedrolls, patting the place beside him and looking up suggestively.

She smiled at him and crouched down beside him, giving him a kiss.

"Sore from all that ridin'?" he whispered, rubbing her shoulder.

"Some. Mostly tired."

He rubbed her shoulder deeply, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to her chin, gently suckling her skin.

"Sully," she scolded softly, glancing at Matthew. "We're not alone, remember?"

"There's a warm spring about half a mile from here," he said, tracing her cheek with his finger. "We could take a little dip. Might feel nice."

"And just leave Matthew here? What's he going to think?"

"He's asleep. Come on, we won't be gone long."

She sighed. "All right. Just to wash up a little. Just give me a moment in the woods first. I think I must have had about four cups of coffee today."

"Hurry up," he said.

She eyed him wryly. "That's easy for you to say."

He smiled at her and folded up another blanket to take down to the spring. Michaela headed several yards into the woods in search of a secluded spot to relieve herself. Just as she was finishing rebuttoning her waistline, someone grabbed her from behind, covered her mouth with his hand and shoved a pistol into her back.

She tried to scream but he cut her off.

"Don't make a sound or I'll kill you," he said gruffly. "Listen to me. You listenin'?"

She managed a nod.

"Don't go pokin' around where ya don't belong, ya hear? That hospital burnin' down was an accident, just an accident. Don't got nothin' to do with Tobias Sawyer or anybody else. That's what you're gonna tell folks from here on out. Understood?"

She nodded again, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"So you just move along now. Forget it happened and move along." He cocked the gun. "If you don't, I know who your children are. Little boy and girl by the name of Byron and Katie. That half-breed Injun. And little baby Eliza."

"Oh, my God," she whimpered.

"Close your eyes and count to a hundred," he ordered. "Do it! Now!"

Michaela was nearly trembling with fear. "One � two," she began shakily. She heard the man mount his horse and gallop off. "Sully!" she choked out breathlessly.

Face ashen, Michaela rushed back to camp. "Sully, Sully!" she cried, gasping for air as she staggered up to him. Matthew quickly roused and got to his feet.

"Someone grabbed me," she said breathlessly. "Threatened the children. He knew their names! Oh, my God."

"What? Slow down," he said.

Matthew stepped toward her. "Who was it? Sawyer?"

"I don't know. Yes. I don't know. He told me the fire was an accident. That it wasn't Mr. Sawyer's fault. That if I ever said anything else about it he'd hurt the children! Then he just left on horseback."

"Stay here!" Sully ordered as he walked briskly to his horse.

"Sully, whoever it was he's long gone now," Matthew said.

"Oh, my God, the children. We have to get home to them! Someone's going to hurt them!" Michaela said.

Sully squeezed her arm. "Kids are all right, Michaela. Kids are fine."

"He's going to kill them!"

Sully gave her a gentle shake. "Michaela, listen to me. I won't let anybody hurt the children. I promise you. I promise."

She let out a big sigh of relief and hugged him tightly. "Oh, Sully."

"No doubt about it now. Mr. Sawyer had somethin' to do with that fire," Matthew said. "He wouldn't of bothered to threaten us otherwise."

"He can prove he was someplace else," Sully said quietly. "He's got more than enough alibis. Unless everybody's lyin'. Don't seem likely."

Michaela narrowed her brow for a long moment. "Wait a minute. That wasn't Mr. Sawyer just now. I felt his whiskers pressing against me. I'm sure of it. Mr. Sawyer didn't have a beard."

"So he sent a friend to do his dirty work," Sully muttered.

She pulled back. "And what if he sent a friend to burn down my clinic, too? Hired someone to do it for him."

Matthew folded his arms. "Like a hatchet man?"

"Criminals do that all the time, don't they, Matthew?" Michaela said. "This way he thinks he's covered all his tracks, that he'll never be caught."

"Most folks want a pretty penny for doin' a crime like that, Dr. Mike," Matthew said. "How would he pay somebody like that? Thought Mr. Sawyer was poor."

"No he wasn't," Sully said. "He and his son had some gold dust saved up they were gonna use to start a business. He told me. He could have used that to hire somebody."

"And yesterday at the saloon his friend said he owes him money," Michaela added. "If he has gold, why couldn't he use that to pay his debts?"

"Unless he spent it all gettin' somebody to burn down your clinic," Sully said.

"The question is, who?" Michaela replied.

"Hate to tell you this, Dr. Mike, but the odds of us solvin' this case now are pretty slim," Matthew said. "It coulda been anybody. And like we saw before, he's got a lot of friends in that town. And they're all gonna stick up for him."

"So now what do we do?" she murmured.

"We go home," Matthew said. "I'll wire every marshal in the state, have everybody on the lookout for anything suspicious. And we talk to Harrington. Try to see what else he knows. That's all we can do."

"Let's get some sleep," Sully said. "We'll leave in a few hours."

Michaela wrapped Katie and the boys tightly in her arms and held them, doing her best to hide how relieved she was. She had been sick with worry when someone threatened them, and all she wanted to do was see them and hold them again.

Sully rocked the baby beside her as Martha discreetly exited the room out the back door.

"Katie had a little accident while you were gone, dear," Elizabeth explained from the kitchen table. "Nothing serious."

"Oh, what happened?" Michaela asked, pulling back and caressing the little girl's cheek and noticing the little scrape on her chin.

"I was riding the velocipede and I went around your garden and I lost my balance and I got all scraped up," Katie said breathlessly. She held up one of her injured palms.

Michaela gently kissed it. "Oh, dear. Oh, sweetheart, that must have hurt."

"You shoulda seen it, Ma," Byron said proudly. "It sure was a good fall!"

"Yeah!" Red Eagle added. "Never seen a better one. Crash!"

She chuckled. "It was, was it? I'm sorry I missed it."

Katie hugged her waist tightly again and buried her face against her mother's belly. "Mommy," she whimpered.

"Oh. I'm sorry I missed it," she whispered, wrapping her arms around Katie and rocking her soothingly.

Katie hugged her all the tighter. "I'm glad you're home, Mama. Please don't go away again."

Michaela crouched down to her level and gave her a big hug and kiss. "I won't. Not for a long time at least."

"You knew Mr. Sawyer had somethin' to do with that fire, didn't you?" Matthew said, staring at Harrington. "How?"

Harrington slowly raised his head and met his eyes. He was sitting on the cot in his jail cell, arms folded. Sully and Michaela lingered behind Matthew, faces drawn.

"Harrington, you don't start explainin', I'll charge you as an accessory," Matthew said. "I'll wire the federal judge and have ya thrown in jail for as long as the law allows."

"Matthew," Michaela said. "Let us try to talk to him? Please?"

He sighed. "All right," he said reluctantly, stepping back and leaning against the door.

Michaela approached the cell and held onto the bars. "Harrington?"

"Sawyer? Did you go after him?" Harrington asked.

Michaela nodded. "Yes. He's back in Burlington where he's from. He has half a dozen witnesses who say he was there at the time of the fire. But we think he may have hired someone to do it."

"Listen, Dr. Mike. I don't know who set that fire. But I do know Sawyer was lookin' around for somebody to help him."

"How do ya know?" Sully asked.

"Because he asked me. He offered me a hundred dollars in gold dust to do the job. I told him no and we went our separate ways."

Michaela's mouth dropped open and she shared a glance with Sully. "Harrington. Why on earth didn't you say something before?"

"Ya coulda stopped this," Sully added.

"No. Please try to understand. I couldn't tell you."

"But why?" Michaela asked.

Harrington took a deep breath. "Almost twenty years ago my boy and I went off to war together. Just like Sawyer and his boy went off to find gold. We were stationed out West, worked side by side for two years without ever getting a scratch. Then one winter when the snow was two feet deep, Colonel Patrick Connor marched us to Fort Douglas. It wasn't a bullet that killed my boy. He got sick and died." He took a deep breath. "He was seventeen, same age as Mr. Sawyer's son."

Michaela's eyes welled with tears. "Oh, Harrington. I'm so sorry."

"I wanted revenge too at the time. I was angry at my colonel, my regiment, the God damned war. Everybody. I took off for a couple weeks. But when I tried to join my regiment again, they wouldn't take me back. Said I'd been officially marked a deserter. When I first joined up, military promised me they'd take care of me the rest of my life. Now I don't see a penny of all those promises because they say I'm a deserter for leavin' the ranks for two weeks when my son died." He sighed. "I guess I � I understood how Mr. Sawyer felt. I couldn't be the one to turn him in. I'm sorry that meant you had to be put through all this, Dr. Mike. It had nothin' to do with you."

"It's all right," she whispered.

"One thing I don't understand," Sully spoke up quietly. "If we never suspected Mr. Sawyer in the first place, why'd ya let us throw ya in jail? Who were ya tryin' to protect?"

"Oh. I was afraid you were going to blame Mr. Bray for the fire."

Michaela wrinkled her brow. "Loren? Why would we blame him?"

"He was smoking up there. Had a box of cigars. Mr. Bray has friends, family, a business. I couldn't let the blame be put on him. It just seemed easier to let the sheriff arrest me."

Michaela shared another glance with Sully.

Matthew approached the bars again. "Harrington, I'm only gonna ask ya this once. Is there anything else you know about this crime you haven't told us?"

"That's all I know, sheriff. You have my word."

"You don't got any idea who else Sawyer would ask to do this for him?"

"No, sir."

Matthew took out his keys and unlocked the cell. "All right, I'm lettin' ya go. But if you think of anything else, ya come straight to me."

Harrington gathered his pack and headed to the door.

"I'm sorry your hospital burned down," Harrington said quietly, pausing in front of Michaela. "I'm sorry I couldn't tell you what I knew until now."

She nodded quietly and held Sully's hand.

"Harrington, about that work around my homestead," Sully spoke up. "My fence could still use those repairs."

Harrington brightened slightly. "I'll stop by tomorrow," he said, shaking his hand.

"I can't believe that fire was arson," Loren said as he leaned on his store counter in front of Michaela and Sully. "Can't believe anybody would do that."

"We think it was arson, at least," Michaela said. "You didn't see anyone suspicious nearby that night, did you?"

"If I did I wouldn't know it. You had me knocked out on three doses of morphine, remember?"

"I just don't understand why you can't go arrest Mr. Sawyer right now," Dorothy said as she wrote in her reporter's notebook at the counter. "It's clear he had somethin' to do with it."

"We have no proof. We have nothing. Matthew can't arrest him without some kind of evidence he was involved."

"Oh, who needs evidence?" Loren protested. "I say he did it." He pounded his fist on the counter for emphasis.

"Loren, can I ask you something?" she replied.

"Sure, Dr. Mike."

"Did you have cigars with you when you were staying at my clinic after your operation?"

Dorothy waved her hand. "Oh, I told him he wasn't supposed to be smokin' those. Those things are gonna kill him."

He scratched his neck. "I had a few. Jake brought 'em over for me. Dr. Mike, you're not sayin' it was one of my cigars."

"No, no. I know it wasn�t you."

"I took them straight away the second I saw him with them, Michaela," Dorothy said. "I'm sure it couldn't have been Loren that started the fire."

"Loren, you ever wonder why Harrington let Matthew arrest him and put him in jail?" Sully asked, "put all the blame on him, even though he was innocent?"

"I don't know. Folks like him are always doin' crazy things like that," Loren replied dismissively.

"He was afraid we would blame you," Michaela explained. "He knew you had cigars and he was afraid we would think the fire was your fault. He didn't want to see you go to jail so he took the blame."

Loren's mouth fell open. "What in tarnation?"

"He was protectin' ya, Loren," Sully added.

Loren sighed. "I never asked him to do that."

"You never asked him to pull you out of that burning buildin' either," Dorothy said. "But it was a good thing he did!"

Loren sighed again. "Reckon I owe him a thank you. He still around?"

Michaela nodded. "He'll be over at the homestead this week. He's going to repair our fence."

"Oh, I didn't notice there was anything wrong with your fence," Dorothy said.

She smiled and glanced at Sully. "There isn't."

"Oh, I see," Dorothy said. "Well, what's gonna happen now? Can't Matthew do anything?"

"There's not much anyone can do. Now that we know it wasn't Harrington, we're just trying to think of who else Mr. Sawyer possibly could have asked to help him do that. Perhaps it was someone else in town. Or perhaps a friend of his from Burlington. We have no way of knowing. Perhaps we'll never know. We just have to hope someone comes forward."

"The idea of somebody deliberately doin' something' like that!" Dorothy said. "What did they do, pour kerosene everywhere? It gives me the chills."

"Kerosene, alcohol. Hard to say," Sully replied.

"Kerosene?" Loren murmured. He took out his ledger and flipped through it several pages back.

"What is it, Loren?" Dorothy asked.

"I think I sold a couple cans of kerosene to somebody just before that fire. Hold your horses and let me find it." He ran his finger down the page. "Here it is, he bought it on credit. Two five-gallon cans. The same afternoon I had my operation." He clutched his hip. "I'm surprised I can even remember that day, my side was hurtin' me so bad. The room was practically spinning by noontime."

"Loren, who was it who bought the cans?" Michaela asked impatiently.

"Well, somebody I'd never seen before. Some kind of Indian from the Reservation."

"Indian? What?" Michaela blurted.

"Indian?" Sully echoed. "Are you sure about that?"

"Course I'm sure. I know an Injun when I see it." He studied the ledger. "I wrote it down here. En-a-pay. Enapay. Now what kind of name is that? A fool one, that's what."

"Enapay. That's Sioux," Sully said, glancing at the ledger. "I think it means Brave."

"Well, whatever it means I knew I shouldn't have given him credit. Never came back here to pay his bill. Predictable, that's what they are."

"What did he look like, Loren?" Sully asked.

"I can't remember. An Indian's and Indian."

"Loren, this is important," Michaela said. "I know you were very ill that day but just try to remember anything."

He sighed. "Let me think. Guess he was maybe twenty-five, thirty. Had long hair. They all have long hair. I'm sorry, Dr. Mike, that's all I can really remember. Honest."

Michaela shared a glance with Sully.

"Let's go," he said.

She nodded and followed him out the store.

"Wait a minute," Loren called. "Where you goin'? Thought we were gonna get some pie at the caf�."

"Go on without us," Michaela called back as Sully lifted her up into the wagon. "And thank you."

"Thank you, Loren," Sully echoed, climbing in and grabbing the reins.

Loren stepped out onto the porch. "Oh, well, you're welcome. I think."

Sully drove the wagon up to the Reservation, Michaela beside him. He pulled back on the reins just outside the wooden gate. Nearby, a soldier was interrogating a young woman holding a child about two years old who was very thin. He grabbed her shoulder and shook her violently and she screamed.

"Stop it!" Michaela called. "Stop it, no!"

"Stop!" Sully shouted, standing up in the wagon.

"Where'd you get it?" the soldier demanded. "Talk!"

The young woman cried and clutched her child tighter.

Michaela glanced at the pair of soldiers guarding the gate. "Sergeant, stop that man!" she cried.

One of them turned around. "Private. Private!" he shouted.

The soldier let go of the woman. "Sergeant?"

"Take her in back. Out of sight. Now."

"Yes, sir," he replied. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her down the dusty street.

"Sergeant, what was that about?" Michaela demanded. "For God sake she has a baby!"

"None of your concern, Dr. Mike." He stepped toward the wagon and glared at Sully. "You're not permitted on the Reservation. A permanent restrainin' order means permanent. Fifty feet in all directions."

"I don't want any trouble. Just wanna talk to Cloud Dancin'," Sully began.

He took his pistol out and pointed it at him, "Get out of my sight or I'll report you to the Captain and God help your sorry soul then. Corporal, get the Captain."

"Yes, sir," the other soldier replied, opening the gate.

"Wait, wait, don't," Michaela said. She glanced at Sully. "I'll go. I'll talk to him." She glanced at the soldiers. "The restraining order doesn't name me. You've always permitted me to come onto the Reservation."

He put his pistol back in the holster. "What business you got with Cloud Dancin'?"

"That's a private matter."

"Oh, yeah? Well, I say it isn't. You ain't goin' anywhere until you talk."

"Fine. I'll just tell your superiors you wouldn't permit the town doctor on the Reservation. That you're refusing all these Indians necessary medical care. I'm sure that will look impressive on your next evaluation."

The sergeant glared at her and stepped back. "Fine. You got twenty minutes."

The corporal stepped forward to help her down, reaching his arms up, but Sully shot him a fierce look.

"Stay away from her," he said sternly.

The corporal stepped back, clearing his throat.

Sully clutched Michaela's shoulder and gave her a small kiss. "I'll wait."

She nodded as he held her hand and helped her to the ground. She approached the gate.

"Forgettin' somethin', doctor?" the sergeant said.

She returned to the wagon, Sully grabbed her medical bag and handed it down to her. "Be careful," he said.

"I'll be back soon," she replied.

"Fifty feet, Mr. Sully," the sergeant said. "I want you out of our sights."

"I'm goin'," Sully muttered. He climbed down from the wagon and walked west on the road to wait for Michaela out of view of the soldiers.

"Loren says his name was Enapay," Michaela said.

Cloud Dancing sat beside his small campfire pensively. "Enapay."

"Is that Sioux?"

"Yes. There's only a few Sioux here. And no one is called that."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I suppose he could have made up the name. That would make sense," Michaela said. "Cloud Dancing, have you noticed anything strange lately here? Anyone behaving suspiciously?"

He added a stick to his fire. "I was north hunting when your clinic burned down."

"I know. But you're an elder in the tribe. And you always know everything that's happening on the Reservation. I just thought maybe you might have noticed something."

He shook his head. "No."

"All right. It was worth a try. They won't let Sully step foot near here, but he sends you his best." She moved to get up.

He suddenly grabbed her arm and squeezed it. "Michaela, don't try to find this Indian who may have burned down your clinic."

"What?" she breathed. "Why?"

He looked at her intently. "He won't be tried by us. He won't be tried by his own people. The Army will conduct his trial. And he will be found guilty."

"Cloud Dancing, this was a serious crime," Michaela said. "I lost thousands of dollars in medical equipment. And Loren could have been killed. Any of us could have been hurt had we been there at the time. My family, my children."

"Can you promise me he'll get a fair trial?"

She swallowed. "No. But I can promise I'll do everything I can to ensure he does."

He let go of her arm. "The Army will hang an Indian for something like this. Don't try to find him."

"I don't think you need to worry," she murmured. "We have nothing more to go on." She got up and brushed her skirt off. "Thank you for your help."

Loren drove his buggy up to the Sully homestead. He spotted Harrington tearing out a few boards on the corral fence, Sully's toolbox resting at his feet.

"Dr. Mike and Sully here?" Loren called, stepping down from his buggy.

"No. They'll be back later," Harrington replied as he tossed an old board aside.

"Oh," Loren said, rubbing his nose. "Sully says you're workin' here."

"Just repairing the fence for them. Won't take long."

"Listen, the two of 'em told me what you did. About protectin' me, takin' the blame for that fire."

"Might as well be me," Harrington murmured.

"Well, you didn't have to do that. Thank you."

Harrington turned back to his work modestly.

"You wouldn't be interested in some more work when you're done here, would you?" Loren asked.

"I'm always looking for a good job."

"Well, I been trying to find a stock boy for awhile now. I'm gettin' too old to do all that lifting. My last one didn't work out."

"I never saw a help wanted sign."

Loren cleared his throat. "Oh. Well, I'm discreet."

Harrington eyed him a moment. "Oh."

"Maybe I could work somethin' out, clear out the old shed out back and you could sleep there. Set up a cot. I'd take rent out of your wages of course." He folded his arms. "Leastways, then you could take yourself off the streets, stop botherin' all the townsfolk. And me."

Harrington eyed him skeptically. "You want to give me a job and a place to sleep?"

"That's what it looks like, don't it? It'll be a quarter a day and the room. Take it or leave it."

Harrington slowly smiled. "I'll take it, Mr. Bray. I'll take it."

"Good. I'll expect you at eight in the mornin' sharp next Monday."

Harrington shook with him. "Yes, sir. I will be."

Sully paced slowly near the dirt road as he waited for Michaela. He watched a pair of hawks circle overhead, perhaps stalking some prey, then he picked up a stray stone on the ground and tossed it absently into the grass. He stopped short when he noticed a small portion of upturned dirt, about six feet across, several yards off the road.

Intrigued, he walked over to it and knelt down, fingering the dirt. Brow fixed, he took out his long knife from his pocket and dug around a little in the dirt. He quickly hit some wood and realized it was a crate. He smoothed off the dirt, uncovering the initials "U.S." stamped on the crate in black. Then he took his knife and pried open the crate.

"What?" he breathed. The crate was brimming with canned rations, from potatoes to sweet corn to peaches.

Sully dug around some more, upturning more crates nearby. He looked around suspiciously, spotting Michaela coming around the bend with the wagon. He quickly put the lids back and spread the dirt back in place, then put his knife away and walked toward the road.

"How'd it go?" he asked as he approached the wagon.

"Whoa." She pulled back on the reins. "He says he doesn't know anything."

He climbed up beside her and took the reins. "That's what I figured."

"He doesn't want me to pursue this. He said if we prosecute an Indian for this it's impossible for him to have a fair trial."

"He's probably right," Sully murmured, slapping the reins.

"I know. I hate to put him in this position. But I want justice to be served, too."

"I know. Look, let's not think about it anymore right now. We got a weddin' to get ready for."

"Yes, you're right." She clasped his arm as he headed the wagon toward home.

Byron and Red Eagle were the first children out of the schoolhouse and Katie followed a few seconds behind.

They looked around, clearly expecting Martha to be there with the baby carriage. They all looked surprised but pleased to find Michaela waiting for them, holding Flash by the reins. Her medical bag was looped across the saddle horn.

She held her arms out.

"Mama!" Katie cried. She rushed to her and hugged her and the boys pushed their way in for hugs, too.

"Where's Martha?" Red Eagle asked. He patted Flash's neck.

"She's at home with the baby. I got all my house calls done this afternoon. I thought perhaps I could walk you home. Is that all right?"

"It's all right, Mama," Katie said and the boys nodded eagerly. Byron held her hand and they headed out of the meadow as Teresa closed the door after the last student.

"Could we stop at Mr. Bray's and get some candy?" Red Eagle asked sweetly, stringing his books over his shoulder. "We were good today."

She smiled. "Well, I suppose so. Just one each though. And not the expensive kind. The penny candy."

"I'm getting chewing gum," Red Eagle announced. "Come on!"

"Byron, could you stay with me?" Michaela asked. "I want to talk to you."

"Sure, Mama," he said with a smile, squeezing her hand as Katie and Red Eagle took off down the street. "Did you see Jack today?"

"Jack? Oh, yes I did. He's doing just fine."

"Good. I bet when he's bigger he'll play baseball on the team. He's really strong, huh, Mama?"

"Yes, indeed, he is. How much homework do you have this weekend?"

"A lot of arithmetic," he grumbled. "I have to correct all my wrong answers on my test."

"Good. We can do it together when we get home."

"Oh, that's all right. Martha can help me."

"Sweetheart, I was wondering," she began, swallowing hard. "Is there something Martha does when she helps you with homework that you like? You seem to work so well with her.

" "Martha? I don't know." He shrugged.

"Well, it's just, if you tell me," Michaela went on tactfully, "if you tell me perhaps Mama could do the same." She bit her lip. "Sweetheart, don't you want to work with Mama?"

He glanced up. "Um, yeah. Sort of."

She paused on the bridge into town. "Sort of?"

He kicked at a small rock. "It's just, sometimes I like doing homework with Martha. She doesn't know."

"She doesn't know? Doesn't know what?"

"You know. That I have to do second grade again," he whispered, staring at his feet. "She doesn�t know I'm dumb."

"Oh," she murmured. "Perhaps it's easier to relax around her, is that what you mean?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes when I do homework with you � I feel bad when I get the wrong answer. You're the smartest Mama in town. Maybe the whole state! You know everything."

"Oh, sweetheart. You don't need to feel that way around me," she said, putting her arm around him. "And I don't know everything. I have things I'm not very good at just like everyone."

"But don't you wish I was good at school?" he asked shyly. "Like you were when you were little? Gran'ma said you never got anything except As."

"Grandma's memory is a little hazy. Of course I want you to do well in school. But sometimes getting the wrong answer is how we learn. Sometimes students who always get the right answer all the time don't really understand why, and that's not really learning." She crouched down to his level. "I'm inspired when I'm around you. You have so much determination. That's not something you can truly learn in a classroom. I think that's something you're just born with."

He scratched Flash's nose. "Thanks. What's � determination?"

"Well, it, it means you work so hard at what you do and never quit. Byron, I love doing homework with you and I'm sorry if I ever made you feel bad. I don't tell you enough how proud you make me every day."

He smiled softly. "I didn't know you loved it. You love homework?!"

She smiled. "Well, it's not the homework exactly. It's the time spent with you I love."

He smiled wider and grabbed her hand as they continued down the street. "It's fractions."

"Fractions?"

"Yeah, the homework. Fractions. Yuck."

She chuckled. "Well, it just so happens fractions are my specialty. Let's work on it right away when we get home, all right? Your auntie's getting married tomorrow and I want all our homework done and out of the way first."

He walked a little closer to her and Michaela pressed their linked hands to her belly, a soft smile on her face.

Michaela hung up Byron and Red Eagle's fitted white suits on the handles of their bureau and smoothed them out. Claudette had purchased the suits in Denver and had Martha alter them. They were complete with little gray bowler hats, a gray silk vest with brass buttons and a red silk handkerchief folded and sticking out of the pocket, and white gloves.

"Do we really have to wear the gloves?" Red Eagle said from his bed. "Our hands are gonna get all sweaty."

"It's just one day. You'll survive," she said wryly.

"I can't wait to blow my nose on that," Byron said with a giggle, pointing at the fancy handkerchief.

"I think that's what kings use to blow their nose," Red Eagle added.

"No!" Michaela said. "It's not for that!"

"Well, what's it for then?" Byron demanded.

"I don't know. Decoration."

"Decoration!" he exclaimed. "Aw, Ma."

She chuckled. "Aw, Ma. Get a good night's sleep. Big day tomorrow." She gave them each one last kiss and hug and then blew out their lamp and left the room, leaving their door open a crack.

Michaela, Sully, and Mollie had worked tirelessly all evening bathing each of the children and the baby, laying out their fancy clothes for the wedding, and making sure everything was in order for tomorrow. Martha had been with Claudette for the past two days, helping her with all the last minute preparations. As much as Michaela had been feeling uncertain about Martha's new role in their family, she found she missed the nanny's help now that she had been absent for two days. Martha was so organized and efficient when it came to the children. Michaela had many moments where she found herself really appreciating her, and seeing her in a new light.

Mollie was washing up the last of the supper dishes at the sink, wearing one of Michaela's aprons.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to do that. I can finish," Michaela said.

"Oh, I don't mind, Auntie," Mollie said.

"I'm so glad you stayed with us," Michaela said, putting her arm around her affectionately. "It's been nice having my favorite niece here."

Mollie smiled faintly and placed a dish on the drying rack. "Uncle Sully's just finishing up the chores. He said he'll be in shortly."

"There's still so much to do. We've yet to wrap Claudette's wedding present, Sully and I need baths, and I still need to finishing letting out that gown your mother wants me to wear. I'm afraid she forgets I'm not quite the same since I've had another baby." She smiled sheepishly. "Weddings certainly keep everyone busy."

"Hmm," Mollie replied.

Michaela eyed her curiously a long moment. "You are coming tomorrow."

"Oh, I don't know, Auntie. We'll see."

"Mollie, your mother loves you. You know that, don't you?"

"Hm. Funny way of showing it."

Michaela picked up a dishtowel and dried off a plate. "You know, when you were a baby, she used to drag Dolly and I out shopping for hours when I was home from medical school, buying the most beautiful dresses and hats and shoes for you. Dolly and I pushed your carriage all over Boston with her. She was so thrilled to have a little girl she could dress up and show off."

"The novelty must have worn off."

"'Claudette,' I would say, 'you realize she's going to outgrow all of this in about two months time.' Then she would glare at me crossly, 'Be quiet, Michaela! When I want your opinion, I'll give it to you!'" She chucked at the memory and stacked the plate.

Mollie sighed. "Just once I want her to say she approves of me. That I've done well for myself in San Francisco. That she wishes me happiness with William Hearst. That she�she loves me. Instead she resents it all."

"I don't think she resents it. Your mother's just always been a very private person. Much like your grandmother. It's just � it's not in their nature to express things like that. I know that can be hard for people like us sometimes who need that sort of validation." Michaela sighed and dried off a few spoons. "I suppose the truth is I understand somewhat Preston wanting his father to approve of what he does. I've often felt the same way about my parents." She put the spoons away in the silverware drawer. "Mollie, she was just, she was very hurt when your brother and father died. She just doesn't want you to ever go through the same pain, that's all this is."

"Oh, I know it's about that. I know about the affair. I may have been just a little girl but I wasn't dense."

Shock registered across her face. "You � you do? How? Oh, Mollie."

"I walked in on them once," Mollie said bravely. "I was six and Mother was gone for the weekend at some sort of charity function with Grandmother and Grandfather in New Bedford. I was looking for my doll I'd misplaced and I found father and her in the bedroom. Doing what no child should see."

"He brought her to the house when your mother wasn't home?" Michaela breathed in total disbelief, putting the towel aside. "What did you think? You were so young."

"I don't know. I knew something was terribly wrong between my parents I suppose. As I grew older I began to understand it more, what it all meant. Father struck me and told me if I ever told Mother what I saw he'd throw me down the stairs."

"Oh, my God. Oh, Mollie. I'm so sorry."

Mollie shrugged. "It's all right. I've gotten over it."

"Claudette still doesn't know," Michaela whispered. "You never told her."

"There's no need to, really. It would only upset her." She finished rinsing the last plate and put it aside.

"She thinks you know nothing of this," Michaela said. "You should talk to her. Tell her. I think it would help."

"Oh, I don't know, Auntie. It's all over and done with." She untied her apron and folded it.

"Sometimes the past isn't truly over until we address it and come to terms with it. Talk through it. Mollie, that marriage � your mother felt like such a failure. And I think she continued to feel that way about everything in her life. That is until she met Preston. She may not admit it, but it would mean the world to her if you would be her maid of honor. Stand up with her. Help give her a fresh start tomorrow." She paused and then put her arm around her. "Why don't you go on up to bed? It's late." She gave her cheek a sweet kiss. "I for one am proud of the woman you've become. Very proud. I love you, sweetheart."

Mollie closed her eyes tearfully. "I love you, Auntie."