"Tighter," Claudette instructed, holding onto the bedpost in Dorothy's room for support.
"Tighter? I don't want to hurt you," Michaela said as she pulled back on the strings of Claudette's corset.
"Of course it's going to hurt! It's a corset!" Claudette retorted.
"If you say so," Michaela said. She gave one last mighty yank on the strings and Claudette groaned. "Oh, dear. Are you all right? Claudette?"
"I'll be fine," Claudette said breathlessly, her eyebrows raised as high as they would go.
Michaela helped her slip into her elaborate off-white wedding gown and smooth out all the silk fabric.
"Thank you for helping me dress, Michaela," Claudette said as they did one last check of her hair. "Martha just has too much to do today to worry about me, too."
"You don't need to thank me. That's my job."
"Thank you for that, too. For standing up with me. This whole ordeal with Mollie. Well, you know all about it."
"You're welcome," Michaela said softly.
Mollie quietly entered the room, dressed in the light blue gown she had shunned just weeks before. Her hair was curled in gorgeous red ringlets and pinned up. Michaela noticed her first as Claudette busied herself checking over every inch of the gown in the long mirror.
Mollie reminded Michaela very much of Claudette at that age, every bit as tall, pale, and gorgeous. Michaela remembered as a girl thinking Claudette was the most beautiful of all her sisters, and wishing she too could be so tall and have hair as red as hers. She was happy her niece had inherited the traits instead.
"Claudette, there's someone here for you," Michaela said.
"I can't see anyone now. I'm too busy," Claudette retorted, smoothing down some lace.
"I think you want to see her."
Claudette turned around with an exasperated sigh. "What is it?" She gasped. "Mollie? Mollie, the maid of honor's dress!"
"If it's not too late, Mother, I'd � I'd like to be your maid of honor. That is, if auntie doesn't mind stepping down."
"Of course not," Michaela said with a pleased smile.
"You said the dress was ugly," Claudette said. "Hideous."
Mollie shrugged ever so slightly. "Well, I was exaggerating."
Claudette smiled softly and stepped toward her. "I'd be honored if you would stand up with me."
Mollie held up a small copper coin. "This is for you."
"A penny? What's that for?"
"Oh, Mother, don't you know? You put it in your shoe for good luck. You need to get out more."
"Oh. That's right. For luck. I'll need it."
"Oh, I doubt that. You're perfect for each other. I'm happy for you," Mollie said sincerely.
Claudette hugged her.
"He makes you smile, Mother. I've noticed," Mollie said softly. "It's. .. it's nice."
"Oh," she murmured, giving her cheek a soft kiss. "It's been a long time, hasn't it? Too long. Poor dear, you probably can't remember what it was like before your fath- � Oh, Mollie. I've made such a mess of things over the years."
"It's all right. No you didn't," Mollie replied unsteadily.
Michaela tearfully watched them embrace. She took out her handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes, careful not to smudge her rouge. "I'll just, I'll make sure everyone's seated," she said, discreetly exiting the room.
Claudette and Preston rushed out of the church, laughing and hands clasped tightly. The wedding party followed behind them, everyone throwing handfuls of white rose petals at them and showering them in a stream of billowy white. Michaela and Mollie smoothed out Claudette's train and helped guide it down the porch stairs.
"Brian, Wills," Claudette said through her teeth. "The doves. Now!"
"Oh. Right," Brian said. He and his cousin William scrambled down the stairs and opened a large wooden cage nearby, releasing a giant flock of white doves.
"What the �?" Jake said.
Everyone looked up at the sky as the birds scattered everywhere, a bit lost.
"Doves?" Sully said skeptically. He glanced at Michaela.
Michaela smiled and shrugged.
Sully patted Eliza's back. The baby was dressed in her frilliest, most elaborate white gown. Sully thought she looked more ready to be Christened in a European cathedral than attend a wedding in their little church, but Claudette had insisted all the children wear white. "Guess she wasn't jokin' when she said the weddin' was gonna be big," he remarked.
Michaela chuckled and put her arm around him as Preston swept Claudette into his arms and gave her a big kiss.
"Some weddin'," Sully remarked as he held Michaela to him and they waltzed slowly on the outskirts of the dance floor.
"Indeed," she said with a chuckle. Claudette and Preston had a mountain of presents stacked up for them on a table. The three-tiered lemon wedding cake was gorgeous and everyone had loved it. The duck and escargot and caviar had gone over surprisingly well, with only the children shying away from it. Fortunately there were plenty of other things for them to eat, and they had filled up on wedding cake as well. And no one seemed to mind that there was no champagne, as per Claudette's request. Everyone was having plenty of fun without it. The only thing that wasn't cooperating was the weather. What had started off as a mild sunny day was quickly turning darker and cooler as storm clouds rolled in from the West.
"Mama! Mama!" Byron cried as he raced toward her, Red Eagle right behind him. They nearly fell into her embrace.
"We were holding a dove and � and�.look!" Byron cried.
Red Eagle held out his white-gloved hand, palm up, where the dove had defecated on him, leaving a large splat of white and black. Brian and Sarah wandered over to see what the commotion was about.
"Oh, dear," Michaela said, shaking her head. "Well, come on, let's get you cleaned up, young man."
"We'll take him, Dr. Mike," Sarah offered, putting her hand on Red Eagle's shoulder. "No need to leave the party."
"Hey, guess this means I don't have to wear the gloves no more!" Red Eagle said. "Yea!
"Well, isn't that convenient!" Michaela said. "All right, go on with Sarah and Brian."
Red Eagle and Byron laughed as their older brother and sister-in-law led them off the floor.
"Michaela, what's the matter?" Claudette called worriedly.
"Nothing," she called back. "Nothing at all."
Preston clinked his spoon against a glass of cider. "Excuse me. Can I have everyone's attention please?" he shouted.
Claudette looked at him curiously. The orchestra stopped playing and everyone ceased dancing.
"I just wanted to thank everyone for coming and helping us to make this day so special." He held Claudette's hand. "And I want to thank this wonderful woman here for marrying me. You know, I had to ask her about four times before she said yes!" Everyone chuckled as Preston drew Claudette all the closer and gazed into her eyes. "Claudette, you � you make me so happy. You make my life so complete. I can't wait to do all the things we've planned to do together. I can't wait to start our lives together. And as your favorite poet Robert Browning writes, 'Grow old along with me-"
"The best is yet to be," Claudette finished. She smiled and drew him into a hug, kissing him modestly.
"Here, here," Loren said and everyone drank from their glasses and clapped.
Michaela wiped away a tear rolling down her cheek with the back of her hand.
"Are you cryin'?" Sully asked incredulously.
"What? That was so sweet," she replied.
"I'd say it was more syrupy," he remarked.
She chuckled. "I suppose."
Jake raised his glass high. "To Claudette and Preston. May you have a long and happy marriage together. And make lots more money!"
Everyone laughed and Preston coughed.
"Here, here!" Jake said.
"Here, here!" the crowd echoed as everyone raised their glasses again.
"Now it's time for the tradition where the bridegroom and bride dance with the in-laws!" Jake smiled wide and gestured at the couple.
Preston and Claudette looked at each other skeptically. Elizabeth gulped and Preston Sr. tried to walk away.
"Go on!" Jake encouraged. The orchestra began playing another waltz.
Preston reluctantly sought out Elizabeth and held out his hand to her.
"Well, all right," she said. "But not too fast. Be careful of my hip."
He stood far apart from her and gently clasped her hand and her waist. They danced for a long moment and then finally Preston cleared his throat.
"I'll do my best to make her happy, Mrs. Quinn. I promise."
"You'd better." She chuckled softly. "Oh, Preston. You already have."
He smiled softly and held her a little closer.
Claudette awkwardly danced with Preston Sr. nearby.
"Well, my dear, I look forward to when you winter in Boston, " Preston Sr. remarked. "And I look forward to meeting my new grandson."
"I'm sorry I'm not exactly what you had in mind for a wife for Preston, Mr. Lodge," she said quietly.
He cleared his throat. "Oh. Well, come, come now. A father's opinion doesn't really matter, now does it? Preston will understand when he has his own boy." She laughed softly and he leaned forward and gave her cheek a gentle kiss. "Welcome to the family."
Large raindrops splattered on their faces and almost instantly the sky opened up and it began sprinkling.
"Oh, no!" Claudette cried. "I knew this was going to happen!"
The orchestra stopped playing and began packing up their instruments.
"Wait, where are you going?!" Claudette cried, rushing over to them. "Stop!"
"Can't let our instruments get wet, ma'am," the lead violinist said. "Sorry."
The caterers started packing up the food and some of the guests headed toward their horses and buggies to leave.
"I think we'd better head back to the hotel!" Preston called, shielding his eyes against the rain and hurrying over to Claudette.
"Oh, dear!" Claudette cried. "And everything was going so perfectly!"
It began raining harder and Claudette's curls started to fall and her dress to soak through.
Michaela and Mollie came rushing over to help her.
"Hurry, your carriage is over there," Michaela instructed.
Claudette and Preston held hands and rushed over to the white open carriage, driven by a man in a white suit with a team of white horses. On the back was a "just married" sign the children had painted that was bleeding and nearly falling apart in the rain, and some tin cans.
The guests that were left ran over to wave goodbye. Preston lifted Claudette up into the carriage.
"Go, hurry!" Preston called up to the driver. "The hotel!"
The driver slapped the reins and took off as the children raced after the carriage calling their last goodbyes.
"Oh! It can't rain!" Claudette bemoaned. Her rouge was running in pink streaks down her cheeks and lips.
Preston put his arm around her and laughed.
"What?" she demanded.
"Nothing. You're beautiful." He kissed her passionately. "Well, at least we won't have to worry our wedding won't be memorable!"
She slowly smiled. "Yes. Yes you're right!" She laughed and hugged him as the carriage headed out of town.
Sully came in the front door soaking wet. "Barn's secured. Roof's holdin' just fine."
Michaela nodded where she was rocking the baby to sleep by the fire. "I'm just sorry the rain cut the wedding reception short."
Sully chuckled and took off his gloves.
"What? It's not funny," she scolded. "Don't laugh at their misfortune."
"It's just, ya can plan and plan a weddin' as grand as that. She worked so hard to make it perfect. But Claudette couldn't control the weather."
She smiled. "I suppose you're right." A bolt of lightning struck nearby and illuminated the room. Eliza whimpered in response. "Shh, hush, hush," Michaela soothed, stroking her head.
"Sure miss Brian's help sometimes," Sully said. "He was always lendin' a hand around the house, with the stock."
"And with the children. He always offered to watch them without complaint. I took his help for granted."
He peeled off his jacket. "We got Martha now. Don't gotta worry about that anymore."
"Yes, I suppose," she murmured.
He hung up his jacket and joined her over by the fire, rubbing the chill from his arms and staring into the flames.
"What are you thinking about?" Michaela asked after awhile.
"I don't know. Cloud Dancin', I guess."
"Do you think he knows more than what he was letting on?"
"I ain't sure. Maybe. He's protected other Indians before. It's just, somethin' ain't addin' up."
"What's not adding up?" she asked.
"The other day when we were at the Reservation. While I was waitin' for ya, out by the road, I saw some dirt that looked fresh dug."
"What do you mean?"
"Like somebody had buried somethin' there. Looked so suspicious, was the right size for it, at first I thought it might even be a body."
"A body?" she murmured with alarm.
"I went to look, dug around a little bit. I finally hit a government crate with a bunch of rations in it."
"What? What on earth?"
"Had beef jerky, potatoes, cans. Somebody had buried 'em. There was another crate next to it. Who knows how much more was there."
"That's odd. What do you think that means? Do you think the government is withholding rations from them? Oh, Sully."
"I don't know. What reason would they have to do that? Indians barely get enough as it is to survive." He sat in the chair beside her and leaned forward. "Michaela, it's just an idea. And I got no proof. But what if Mr. Sawyer paid this Indian callin' himself Enypay to burn down your clinic, and the Indian took the gold dust he got and bought those rations?"
"Sully, when that soldier was interrogating the woman with the child. He kept asking her where did she get it. Where did you get it? Do you suppose he meant extra rations?"
"Could be."
"Cloud Dancing must know if there's extra rations in camp," Michaela said. "I'm sure he would know."
"Maybe he does."
"Why didn't he tell me?"
"It's like he said. He thinks we arrest some Indian for this, he don't got a chance in court. And he's right."
"You and Cloud Dancing need to talk," Michaela said.
"Don't think he'll wanna tell me either, Michaela. I know him."
"So what are you saying? We just let this go? Turn a blind eye to this information?"
"No. I want whoever did this caught just as much as you. But I think we could work at convincin' the Army to let the elders of the tribe settle this. Let them try him. Would ya be all right with that?"
"I don't know. I suppose so. As long as they're fair." She shook her head. "But how can we begin to prove such a thing?"
"We keep an eye on that spot. Sooner or later somebody'll come by and dig up those rations."
"I think we should tell Matthew. Let him handle this."
"Michaela, we can't."
"Why not?"
"Because he's the law. He won't want the elders to try him. The crime happened off the Reservation. He's gonna insist federal law applies. That's his job."
"He might not. We could convince him."
"It's too risky. Less people involved, the better. From here on out, we gotta handle this ourselves." He clutched her hand. "Michaela, trust me, all right? We can do this."
Another loud clap of thunder sounded and Michaela heard footsteps scurrying down the stairs.
"Mama, we can't sleep. We're afraid," Red Eagle called unsteadily. He and Byron rushed into the room in their nightshirts and slippers.
"Of the thunder? Don't be frightened, sweethearts. It's just a bad storm." She held her arm out to them and they came over and hugged her. "This storm's a good thing," she explained. "We need the rain for my garden. We'll have lots and lots of delicious strawberries and new potatoes and carrots come springtime."
"Strawberries. Yum," Red Eagle said.
"Maybe we could make a strawberry pie," Byron suggested.
"Oh, that sounds good. If you help me." Michaela kissed his head. "No wheezing?"
"Nope, no wheezin'," he said proudly.
"Good. You go on back up to bed. I'll come up in a minute and we'll read for a few minutes, all right?"
"All right, Ma. Thanks," Red Eagle said.
Michaela watched them go and waited until she heard their feet walking on the floorboards above them. "Sully, we can't let Red Eagle find out an Indian was involved in this," he whispered. "We can't tell the children."
"We won't have to," he replied. "They don't gotta know."
"He just can't ever know it could have been an Indian who burned my clinic down," she said, eyes welling with tears.
Sully leaned forward and hugged her reassuringly.
Preston held Claudette up against his chest and gently stroked her arm as rain beat against the window.
"I'm sorry our first night together as husband and wife is in my hotel and not on a proper honeymoon," he remarked.
"No, that's all right. I like your hotel," she said.
"We'll take a big trip to Europe this summer. A few months. It'll be wonderful."
"Yes, won't it? Wait, but what about the child we're going to adopt? We can't take off for Europe for two months with a little child."
"Oh. Well, perhaps he could stay with Michaela and Sully and your mother while we're out of the country."
"I'm sure Michaela will never let me hear the end of it about that. Adopting a child only to unload him on her for two months. She already thinks I'm a terrible mother. Let's not add fuel to the fire."
"Oh, it doesn't matter what Michaela thinks. Hmm, I suppose we could always bring Martha along. She could look after him. We're going to need a nanny of course. I'm working all the time and you're busy with your things. Besides, you can't look after him all by yourself. Better it be Martha, someone the family trusts."
"Oh. Yes, of course. No, I can't look after him by myself. Good heavens."
He sighed. "It's strange, Claudette. I've never had to think about a child before. I've always done whatever I wanted." He chuckled softly. "Come to think of it I've never had to think about anyone else at all. I have you now, and soon there's going to be three of us. I have to think about you and our son now, your needs and wants." In the past the responsibility would have been frightening, but at the moment he felt nothing but pride and contentment.
She turned her head to look at him skeptically. "I suppose that's going to be a change for you."
"A wonderful change," he replied, kissing her.
"Preston?"
"Yes?
"Nothing I'm just happy. So happy. I haven't felt this feeling in so long. Thank you."
He smiled and drew her all the closer, kissing her deeply.
"That's all of it," Brian said as he rejoined Sarah and Anna Marie on the train station platform, taking off his gloves. "It's all on board."
"Thank you, Brian," Anna Marie said. She clasped his hand and gently squeezed it, taking an unsteady breath. "Well, guess this is goodbye."
"Not for long. We'll be out for a visit real soon," Brian vowed. He kissed her cheek. "You take care, Anna Marie. We'll think about ya all the time."
"John would have liked you. Yes he would have."
Brian smiled softly. It was the first time he could remember in ages Anna Marie ever talking about Sarah's father. Come to think of it, she never breathed a word about him unless someone asked. It seemed like the execution of his murderers had brought some sense of closure to her, and he was glad for her. "Sure I woulda liked him, too," he replied.
Sarah was in tears now but struggling to be brave.
"Oh, darlin'. None of that now," Anna Marie said, drawing her into a tight hug. "You'll get me started, too."
"Thank you, Mama," she whispered. "For everything. I got the best ma in the world."
"No, you've made my job too easy, darling," she said, stroking her hair and kissing her cheek. "You're the best daughter in the world."
Sarah squeezed her all the tighter until the train whistle blew a final time.
"Best get on the train," Brian said.
"I can already taste that good Southern cooking," she said tearfully.
Brian gave Anna Marie a hand up the steps and then put his arm around Sarah as they waved their final goodbyes. They watched the train steam and make its way slowly out of the station, gradually picking up speed.
Brian squeezed Sarah's shoulder. "Hey. I got somethin' for ya."
She sniffled and dabbed at her noise with her handkerchief. "What?"
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a folded up, bright red felt scarf.
"Oh. A scarf," she said, a bit confused. "Thank you. That's real practical."
He unraveled it. "You know, cause Fifi tore up the first one I bought ya. Never did replace it, did I?"
She smiled tearfully. "Oh, Brian."
He put the scarf over her neck and pulled her toward him by the ends. "Come 'ere, Mrs. Cooper." He kissed her flushed lips. "You're so beautiful. I love you."
"And I love you," she replied, wrapping her arms around his back.
Sully put a few slaps of beef jerky in his saddle bag and then went off to fill up their canteens at the sink.
"I just don't understand why you won't tell me what's going on," Elizabeth griped as she sat at the table.
"I already explained to you, Mother," Michaela said as she buttoned up her jacket. "We'll tell you when we can."
"When will that be?!" she cried.
"Mother, keep your voice down," Michaela scolded. "The children are asleep."
"This has something to do with the fire, doesn't it? You think someone on the Reservation did it?" Elizabeth said. "What are you going to do, arrest all those Indians yourselves?"
Byron and Red Eagle crept down the stairs in their nightclothes, listening in on their conversation with wide eyes.
"That ain't what we're doin'. We don't know who did this anymore than you do," Sully said as he returned to the table with the canteens. He touched Michaela's back. "Best get goin'."
"Mother, just go to bed and don't worry about it. We'll be back before sunrise," Michaela vowed.
"Don't worry about it," Elizabeth muttered as she headed off to her room. "My daughter takes off in the middle of the night like a regular vigilante and refuses to tell me anything and I'm not supposed to worry. Just go to bed, don't worry."
Michaela and Sully headed out the door, locking it behind them.
"Where are they going?" Byron whispered.
"I don't know. An adventure," Red Eagle said, hugging his knees.
They both looked at each other expectantly.
"Let's go," Red Eagle said. "Let's follow them."
"What if we get caught?" Byron said. "I don't think I can write anymore lines."
"We'll be quiet," he replied. "We'll walk softly like Indians."
"Yeah, all right. Hurry, let's go."
"Ya cold?" Sully whispered as he crouched beside Michaela. They were nestled in the brush several feet off the main road, vigilantly watching the spot where Sully had found the buried provisions.
"I'm all right," she said as she hugged her jacket to her.
He rubbed her back and returned his attention toward the road. They hadn't seen anything suspicious since they had arrived early that night. Just a few wagons and a drunk stumbling home from the saloon singing a tune at about midnight. They were beginning to wonder if it was all for naught and they should just go home and forget the entire thing, though neither would voice it.
It must have been about three in the morning when a lone soldier quietly made his way down the road, a shovel over his shoulder.
"Michaela, look," Sully whispered.
She perked up and looked out toward the road. Her brow furrowed as he began to dig in the area where the provisions were, throwing dirt over his shoulder.
"A soldier?" she whispered back. "What?"
"Come on," Sully said, grabbing her hand and walking briskly out of the bushes. "Hey!" he called.
The soldier dropped the shovel and whipped out his pistol, pointing it at them. "Who's there?" he demanded.
"Don't shoot," Michaela called. "We just want to talk to you."
He squinted at her. "Dr. Mike?"
She stepped closer to him, studying him in the moonlight. "Corporal Stark."
"What are you doin' here?"
"We should be askin' you that," Sully retorted. "What's with all these supplies?"
"Listen, you don't wanna be involved," he warned. "I suggest ya just go back to where ya come from and forget you ever saw anythin'."
Sully stepped closer to him. "You don't start explainin' right now I'll report this to the Bureau. Let 'em know the Army's been withholdin' provisions. I'll see to it you and your whole unit's discharged."
He slowly lowered his pistol. "All right. All right. I'll talk. It's all part of a deal I had with one of the Indians. He paid me a hundred dollars if I could get my hands on some extra supplies. I'm not withholdin' provisions. I've been distributing them around the Reservation for about a month."
Sully grabbed his collar. "What do ya know about her clinic burnin' down?"
"What? I don't know a thing," he protested.
"It's gotta have somethin' to do with this. I know it does," Sully spat. He shook him firmly.
He grabbed his arm. "Look, mister, I swear I don't know a thing about it. I swear it. I just took a hundred dollars in gold dust to send home to my youn'uns in Texas and didn't ask questions. What's that got to do with the clinic?"
"Gold dust," Michaela breathed. "Who bribed you to do this?" she demanded.
"Who was it?" Sully added sternly. "Tell us or I'll report ya!"
He took a deep breath. "It was�it was White Bear."
Michaela glanced at Sully. "White Bear. I know him," she said. "I've treated his consumption several times. Sully, he's Sioux."
"We gotta talk to him. Right now," Sully said. "Where is he? He still on the Reservation?"
"No, he's not."
"Where is he? Was he transferred?" Michaela asked.
"Dr. Mike, I'm afraid you can't talk to him."
"Why?"
The bushes behind them suddenly moved.
"What was that?" the corporal demanded. He pointed his pistol at the bushes. "Who's there? Show yourself or I'll shoot."
The bushes moved again and the corporal shot at them twice.
"Don't shoot!" Michaela cried. "You could hurt someone!"
"Take it easy!" Sully added.
Suddenly a child cried out frantically. "Red Eagle!"
Michaela glanced at Sully with alarm and they abandoned the corporal and ran toward the bushes at full speed. Michaela tore through the brush until she uncovered Byron, tears streaming down his face as he crouched over his brother and pressed on his abdomen futilely. Byron's hands were soaked with dark blood.
"Byron! What on earth are you doing here?" Michaela exclaimed. She moved him aside and gasped at the sight of Red Eagle. He was prostrate on his back, blood oozing from a bullet wound to his abdomen. His eyes were glassy and he was panting.
"Mama," Red Eagle gasped.
"Oh, my God!" She fell to her knees and tore open his shirt, fingering the serious wound.
Sully looked down and narrowed his brow.
"What is it?" the private called as he jogged over. "Some good for nothin' spy?" He stopped short at the sight of Red Eagle. " � Jesus."
"You shot him!" Michaela cried, glancing up at him furiously. "You shot my son!"
Sully grabbed his arm. "He's eight years old!"
"I didn't know. I didn't know. Oh, Christ."
"Sully, we need to get him to a hospital," Michaela said frantically. "We'll have to bring him to Andrew's. We have no place else to go."
"Get a wagon," Sully ordered, glancing at the corporal. "Go!"
The corporal raced off back to the Reservation.
"Mama? Am I gonna die?" Red Eagle whispered weakly. He coughed.
"No, you can't. You can't," Byron protested, clutching his hand in his bloody fingers.
"I'm dying," Red Eagle said.
"Hush. Don't talk. Don't talk," Michaela said, pressing a cloth hard against his abdomen. "Don't talk. Mama's going to make it better. You're not going to die."
Sully banged on the Chateau clinic door urgently. "Andrew!" he shouted. "Andrew, open up!"
"Andrew!" Michaela called. She was cradling Red Eagle in her arms and Byron was at her side. Red Eagle was barely conscious, weakly clutching a portion of her blouse. Blood soaked his clothes and stained the front of Michaela's skirt. "Andrew, it's an emergency!"
"Where is he?" Sully blurted. He banged on the door again.
"I don't know," she said. "Sully, we have to get in there."
"All right, step back," he said. "I'll break it open."
"Step back, sweetheart," Michaela said, pulling Byron away.
"What's going on here?" Preston suddenly called. He came jogging over in his bathrobe and slippers, Claudette on his heels. She was buttoning up a frilly pink robe and her hair was rolled up tightly with dozens of little white strips of cloth.
"Michaela? Sully? What is all this? It's the middle of the night," Preston shouted.
"He's been shot," Sully said. "Where's Andrew? We need to use his clinic."
Claudette gasped and pressed her hands to her mouth at all the blood.
Preston glanced at Red Eagle and his breath caught. "Andrew. He's, uh, he's visiting a sick uncle back East. He left yesterday. It was all very sudden."
"Preston, please let us use your clinic," Michaela said emotively. "He's not going to make it. Please."
"Yes," he blurted. "Yes, yes, of course. Wait here. I'll get the keys." He turned around.
"What is all this racket?" Preston Sr. suddenly demanded as he hurried toward the clinic wearing a plaid robe, dark leather slippers and a long nightcap. "Preston?"
"I don't have time to explain, Father," he said dismissively. "The boy's been hurt and Dr. Quinn needs our clinic."
"You said she's not allowed on the premises!" he retorted. He glanced at Red Eagle. "No, you can't let an Indian in there! He'll contaminate the entire facility!" He grabbed his arm but Preston shrugged him off.
"Father, don't you see?!" he shouted defiantly. "He's going to die if he doesn't get help right now! This isn't your concern! Stay out of it!"
Preston Sr. stared at him in utter shock. He glanced at Claudette for help but she just looked away. Finally he spun around with an audible grumble and stormed back around the bend.
Preston glanced at Sully. "Never mind the keys. It'll take too long. Just break open the door."
"Ya sure?" Sully said.
"Yes, of course I'm sure. Just do it!"
"Stay back. Everyone stay back," Michaela said, leading Byron all the further away.
Sully raised his leg and belted his boot hard against the door. He did it once more and the lock broke and the door flew open. He rushed inside and lighted a lamp and Michaela followed with Red Eagle.
"Is there anything I can do?" Preston asked, walking inside.
Michaela laid Red Eagle on the examination table. "Water. And we'll need more lamps. I'm going to need to operate."
"What about me? What can I do?" Claudette asked from the doorway.
"Um, could you stay with Byron?" she said.
"Yes, yes, of course," Claudette said. She drew Byron to her side and held him close. "Stay with Auntie, dear."
"Auntie, is he gonna be all right?" Byron whispered tearfully.
She picked him up and gave his head a gentle kiss. "Yes, of course. Of course he will. Hush."
Michaela rolled Red Eagle onto his side as more blood pooled onto the sheet covering Andrew's operating table. She touched his back.
"No exit wound," she said, glancing at Sully. "The bullet's still inside." She grabbed a bottle of chloroform off the tray and doused a cloth with it, then placed it over Red Eagle's mouth and nose. "Hold that there," she instructed.
Sully held the cloth, taking a shaky breath, as Michaela laid out several scalpels and forceps on another cloth.
Ever since Michaela had been shot in the shoulder so long ago and Andrew didn't have exactly what he needed to operate on her, Andrew had stocked plenty of supplies in case such an emergency should ever happen again. Michaela had a feeling Preston didn't know just how useless most of Andrew's medical supplies were on a day to day basis. But now his foresight could save Red Eagle's life. If anything his clinic was much more prepared than even she used to be for a gunshot wound as serious as this.
Preston entered the room carrying two more lamps. A bellhop working the night shift followed behind him with a pitcher of water.
"Where do you want these?" Preston asked.
"On the table," Michaela instructed as she cleaned the wound with some saline. "Turn the lamps up as high as they'll go."
Preston did as he was told, then eyed Red Eagle for a long moment, growing a little pale. "Michaela, will he � will he make it?"
"I don't know. I believe the bullet's lodged somewhere in his intestines. I won't know exactly what kind of damage it's done until I go inside." She glanced at him. "You should step out. I'm about to begin."
"Good luck," Preston said as he and the bellhop walked outside.
Preston found Claudette sitting on the bench with Byron, their arms around each other as he quietly cried. Claudette kissed his head reassuringly. She could be quite a bit maternal when she cared to be, and Preston felt deep down she was going to make a fabulous mother to the child they ended up adopting someday soon.
"She's operating," he whispered.
Claudette met his eyes and nodded solemnly.
"He can't die, Uncle Preston," Byron whispered.
"Oh, he's not going to die," Preston said, taking a step toward him. "I have the best medical equipment in there."
"And the best doctor?" Byron whispered.
Preston hesitated. "Why, yes. That, too." He glanced at Claudette. "I think it could be awhile. Why don't we take him inside to the kitchen, get him something warm to drink?"
"Would you like that, sweetheart?" Claudette said. "Let's go inside and warm up."
Byron nodded and got up, holding her hand. He reached his other hand out to Preston and grasped his. Preston raised his eyebrows a little uncomfortably and held his new nephew's hand lightly as he and Claudette led him to the Ch�teau.
Claudette cleared their cups of coffee and Byron's cup of hot chocolate, placing them in the sink in the hotel kitchen.
"What were you doing out there at this time of night anyway?" Claudette asked softly.
"I don't know," Byron whispered. "We wanted to have an adventure." He closed his eyes tiredly and leaned against Preston's arm.
"Adventure," Claudette murmured. "Well, I would think just living out here in Colorado would be adventure enough."
"I don't know. I've never lived anywhere else."
"Were you like that as a boy, Preston?" Claudette asked, meeting his eyes. "Adventurous?"
He paused a long moment. "I was � I was eager to please as a boy. With four older brothers it was �"
"What?" she prompted.
"It was hard to be noticed sometimes," he murmured.
"Well, that doesn't matter anymore," she said, reaching across the table and holding his hand. "What matters is I notice you, husband. And I love you."
He smiled softly. "You're right."
Claudette glanced at Byron. His mouth was open and his eyes were closed. "He's asleep."
Preston carefully put his arm around him and lifted him into his arms. "Let's put him in our bed upstairs where he'll be comfortable."
"Yes, good idea."
Together they carried the little boy upstairs and tucked him in for the night.
Michaela carefully pealed back the cloth covering Red Eagle's wound and examined her stitch work. The sun was just rising and Sully was putting a few soiled cloths from the operation in the stove.
Red Eagle shifted his head ever so slightly and slowly opened watery eyes. "Mama?"
"Sully, he's awake," Michaela called. She crouched over him and caressed his cheek. "I'm here. Mama's here." Sully walked over and gently held his hand.
"Where am I?" Red Eagle choked.
"Andrew's clinic. You were shot and Mama had to operate on you," Michaela replied.
"Oh." He gazed up at her a long moment. "I had a good dream. I saw my mama. My real mama."
"You saw Hattie?" she whispered.
He nodded. "And Jack. She was holding Jack. They looked so happy."
She exchanged an emotive glance with Sully.
"That is a good dream," she whispered.
He closed his eyes tiredly.
"Sleep," Michaela encouraged. "Rest, all right?" She smoothed his hair a long moment as the little boy drifted back to sleep. She glanced at Sully a moment. "Do you really think he saw his mother? And � and Jack?"
"Maybe. Cheyenne believe this life and the next are joined together. That we're always connected even if we can't see our loved ones that passed on anymore."
She put her arm around his waist. "He's going to be all right."
He nodded. "Thanks to his ma."
The captain stood beside Andrew's desk, one gloved hand gripping the handle of his long sword.
"He'll be court marshaled on Friday in Denver. He'll be appropriately tried and disciplined for his recklessness."
"Recklessness? That what you call shootin' a little boy?" Sully muttered.
Michaela gently touched Sully's arm. "Thank you, Captain."
"And believe you me he'll pay for takin' that bribe. We don't make deals with Indians. I can assure you he'll most likely be transferred to another post, if not discharged completely."
"What about White Bear?" Michaela asked.
"White Bear?"
"He's Sioux. He's the Indian that Corporal Stark says he took the bribe from," Sully explained.
"Oh him. Expired. Two weeks ago. Of consumption."
"He's dead?" Michaela breathed.
"That's right. Afraid we won't get much information from him." He tipped his hat. "I need to head back to the Reservation. I'm glad the child seems to be recovering well."
"Thank you," Michaela murmured. She watched him go and then turned to Sully. "I can't believe he's dead."
"Gonna be hard to connect Mr. Sawyer to all this now."
"He was just trying to feed his family, Sully. White Bear. A hundred dollars to an Indian like him must have been �" She sighed. "Mr. Sawyer found the most desperate person he could to burn down my clinic."
"Guess maybe White Bear thought this is how he could see to it his family was taken care of after he was gone. He didn't want 'em to starve. " He rubbed her back. "What do you wanna do?"
"I don't know. We could try dragging Mr. Sawyer into court. But with White Bear dead � "
He drew her into a comforting hug.
"I just care that Red Eagle's all right," she whispered. "I just want our family to be safe. That's what matters."
"Me, too," he whispered back, rocking her gently.
Michaela laid a cloth across Red Eagle's forehead as she sat on the recovery bed beside him while he slept.
Sully walked into the room, taking off his gloves. "Door's fixed," he whispered.
She nodded and rubbed Red Eagle's arm. "He just ate half a bowl of broth."
"That's good." He sat beside her and held her shoulder. "You gotta get some rest."
"Mm. I will. In a little while." She sighed. "It's all so silly now."
"What is?"
"Everything. The loan, what happened between us and Preston. The bad blood between Preston's father and my father. It just doesn't matter anymore."
"You're right, it don't. Sides, ya said yourself your pa would apologize if he were here. It all woulda blown over."
She paused a long moment. "What time is it?" she finally asked.
"I don't know. Must be about noon."
"He may still be here."
"Who?"
"Preston's father. I think he was leaving today on the afternoon train to St. Louis. Can you stay with Red Eagle?" She got up and headed to the door.
"Sure, but where ya goin'?"
"My father can't apologize to him," she replied. "But I can." She opened the door and headed out.
A bellhop carried one of Preston Sr.'s heavy trunks down the stairs and outside.
"Thank you, my good boy," Preston Sr. said as he followed him outside to the carriage where Preston was waiting.
"You have everything, Father?" Preston asked.
"I haven't seen my hat box," he replied as he searched through his luggage. The bellhop loaded the trunk into the back. "Don't tell me I left it in the closet."
"I'll go look, Father," Preston said. "Wait here." He took off up the hotel stairs.
Michaela walked over from the Chateau clinic, still wearing her apron.
"Mr. Lodge," she called. "I'm glad I caught you."
He gave her a brief glance as he tipped the bellhop. "The boy is recovering well I presume."
"Yes, he is. Thank you. May I speak with you?"
He opened his pocket watch impatiently. "I have a train to catch."
"It'll just be a moment."
"Briefly," he said uncomfortably.
"I, um, I wanted to tell you. I spoke with my mother. And she enlightened me on a few things I wasn't aware of."
"Pertaining to?" he replied tightly, tucking his watch back in his pocket.
"Well, the loan you declined of my father's. The truth of the matter is he did speak poorly of you afterward for a time. I didn't realize."
"Yes, indeed he did," he retorted. "I told you."
"My father's not alive anymore, but I don't think he would mind if I speak for him. I know if he were here he would apologize for what he did. He had a lot of pride, but he also knew when he was wrong. He wouldn't want you to hold a grudge all these years later. And he certainly wouldn't want anyone to hold it against his family long after he was gone. So on his behalf I'm sorry if whatever he did had any kind of negative impact on your business."
He looked at her as if no one had ever apologized to him before. "I, um-" he stammered.
"And I hope we can move on from here amicably. Especially since my sister is married to your son now."
"This doesn't have any bearing on your financial situation, young lady," he said, gazing down at her skeptically. "My son is never going to give a loan to the likes of you. No one in their right mind would."
She looked up at him at shock. "Mr. Lodge, that's not why I'm telling you this. You think that's why I'm here?"
"It's not?" he murmured.
"No, of course not," she said. "I know I'm not a good risk just as much as you do. Your son made a business decision, and I respect that. I've moved on."
"You've moved on," he echoed blankly, as if not understanding the concept.
"Yes, ages ago." She paused, waiting for him to say something. She cleared her throat. "Well, I just wanted to tell you that. Have a safe trip back to Boston." She slowly turned around and headed back to the clinic.
"Young lady," he called. "Miss Quinn. Doctor."
She paused and turned back around.
He paused a long moment, clutching his cane. "I'm sure that's what your father would have said. If he were here. Thank you," he replied. With that, he climbed into the carriage and sat down, busying himself with checking his watch again.
Michaela nodded and continued walking. She wasn't expecting much out of Preston the second. But she had a feeling thanking her was quite a milestone for a man like him. And she felt a hundred times better having gotten all of that off her chest. She smiled softly and headed back to the clinic to sit with Red Eagle.
Katie raced by Sully and Byron with a few schoolmates in tow, all of them munching on candied apples and carrying toys and other prizes they had won at the bazaar under their arms. A small band led by Kirk on the fiddle and Jake on the banjo was playing on a platform nearby and several couples were dancing.
"Ten cents to play," Loren said impatiently as Byron stepped up to a booth with Sully.
Byron handed over the coin and Faye gave him a fishing pole with a big hook on the end.
"Now just put your line into the booth and see what you catch, darlin'," she instructed.
"Wonder if I'll get anything," Byron said.
Loren walked over to Sully. "How's Red Eagle doin'?"
"Lot better. Michaela's with him. Even thinks he could come home tomorrow."
"That's good to hear."
"He's so lucky. He gets to miss a whole week of school so far," Byron remarked as something tugged on his line. He slowly dragged his fishing pole up with a groan, revealing a little wooden red caboose attached to the end. "Look, a train! Mr. Bray, it's just like the one in your store!"
"So it is."
"Maybe even better!" Byron added, unhooking the caboose from the end and tucking it under his arm. "Papa, can I play again?"
Sully chuckled. "Let's go see the other booths, all right? Then we'll come back."
"All right. See ya, Mr. Bray."
Loren waved at them as they walked off.
Dorothy came over with the Reverend on her arm. The Reverend was carrying a cash box.
"How much have you made so far?" Dorothy asked eagerly.
"Well, I ain't countin' it every second," Loren grumbled.
"About three dollars fifty cents last time I looked," Faye said.
"That's only about twenty five dollars total," the Reverend said with a sigh.
"Maybe we should raise the prices," Loren suggested.
"Loren, we can't raise the prices in the middle of the bazaar!" Dorothy cried.
"Who says?" He walked over to the stage and grabbed a bullhorn. He gestured to the band to stop playing. "Everybody quiet down, I have an announcement to make!" he shouted. "If you haven't heard, this here bazaar is to raise money to rebuild Dr. Mike's clinic. She's done a lot of good for this town and we're all gonna be a lot worse off if that clinic doesn't get up and running again real soon. So whatever you can find in your pocketbooks to give, we'd appreciate it." He paused. "Thank you."
Several townsfolk approached the Reverend to hand over more coins and bills.
"Thank you," Dorothy said breathlessly. "Thank you, everyone."
Sully looked on in disbelief at everyone's generosity. He had no idea the bazaar was to raise money for the clinic, and he was fairly certain Michaela didn't know either.
"Think we'll get enough money, Papa?" Byron asked, grabbing his hand. He took a big bite of a candied apple.
"I don't know," Sully murmured. "I hope so." He caressed his head. "This is a good town, ain't it?"
"Yeah. I like it," Byron said with his mouth full.
Sully chuckled and gave him a gentle hug. "Ya wanna play the fishin' game again?"
"Yes! Yes please!" he cried.
"Let's go."
Sully and Brian raked up some heavy debris to the side as everyone pitched in to start cleaning up all the wreckage from the fire. Even Red Eagle was sitting in a chair nearby slowly sorting through some charred books.
"Dr. Mike, over here," Sarah called.
Michaela dropped a few boards aside with her gloves hands and walked over to her. "What is it?"
Sarah held up a blackened frame with cracked glass.
"Sully, look. It's my medical degree," Michaela said.
Sully came over and rested one hand on her shoulder. "Almost as good as new, huh?" he said wryly.
She smiled and tucked it under her arm. "Almost."
"What's everyone doing?" Claudette called. "The children are filthy!" She made her way a few feet into the wreckage.
"We're just trying to clean up," Michaela explained.
"Soon as we get all this debris cleared out, we're gonna put up a tent," Sully said. "She can start seein' patients here, store some medical supplies."
"Oh, well, that will be �. that will be lovely," Claudette stammered. "What about furniture?"
"Furniture?" Michaela echoed. "I haven't thought that far ahead."
"I could make a few cots, a desk," Sully said. "It's just gonna take some time."
Claudette sighed. "Well, I would stay and help but I have to send some telegrams. Preston and I are finalizing all our plans for our trip to Europe. We leave next month. Good morning."
"Bye, Auntie," Katie called.
Michaela exchanged an amused glance with Sully just as Dorothy, Loren and the Reverend came hurrying over.
"Well, it looks like it's going well!" Dorothy said.
"Does it? I feel like we're barely making a dent," Michaela replied as she tossed aside a few more boards.
"I'll send over my stock boy. I don't need him this afternoon," Loren said. "He can help out."
"Harrington? Why, thank you, Loren. We could use the extra hands."
"He know how to pitch a tent?" Sully said. "We're gonna need a few more men to help us with that."
"Speaking of that tent," the Reverend said. "We got to talkin' and we don't think a tent is gonna be good enough."
"What do you mean?" Michaela replied.
The Reverend handed her a thick envelope. "Here, Dr. Mike. This is for you. From all of us. The whole town."
"What is it?"
"Open it," Sully said.
She took off one glove and opened it up, revealing a thick stack of one and two dollar bills.
"It's the money from the bazaar," Dorothy explained. "I know it's not much, but at least it could buy you some lumber."
"We hope it'll help get you started," the Reverend added.
"I don't know what to say," Michaela replied tearfully. "It's too much."
"Well, don't know where this town would be without you, least ways me," Loren murmured. "Take it, Dr. Mike."
"But what about the new hymnals?" Michaela said. "I thought the bazaar was to raise money for hymnals."
"Oh, we don't need those as much as we need a new clinic," the Reverend replied.
Michaela slowly sealed the envelope. "Thank you. Thank you all so much. This means more to me than you know."
"You mean a lot to this town, Michaela," Dorothy said. "We're only sorry we didn't step up and help you out sooner."
Michaela embraced them all as tears flowed, streaking the soot on her face.
Preston kissed Claudette's neck and then pressed his lips to hers, caressing her bare back.
"Oh, that was so good," he whispered lovingly, eyes closed. "You're so good, Claudette."
She smiled shyly. "I'm glad you were pleased." She knew their physical relationship was going to be enjoyable. After all, when they first made love several months before it had been nothing short of spectacular. In fact up until then she had no idea making love was anything more than a bit of a chore, at least for women. But really settling into their relationship now, several days out from their wedding, it was all that she had hoped for and more. She found herself completely regretting all the years of her life she had wasted on such a hopeless marriage with her first husband. She should have left him the second she found out about the affair. But nice Boston ladies didn't leave their husbands. They stayed in their marriages to the bitter end. And so she had. Besides, Charles probably would have taken the children had she actually tried to leave, and she would have died first rather than be separated from them. But at least now she was getting a second chance at it all. She thought of the penny she had placed in her shoe from Mollie and smiled.
Preston fell to his side and took her hand in his, massaging it firmly in his as he rested. "You have the most lovely hands. So small."
"They're not that small," she replied.
One thing Charles had never wanted to do after they made love was talk. In fact he had even told her to be keep her mouth shut once when she tried to say something. Claudette just adored this part of her marriage to Preston, cuddling up together and talking like this with him.
He kissed the tip of each finger lazily. "Yes they are. You're very small all around."
"No, I'm actually quite tall and gangly for a woman. Michaela's the short one. But she makes up for it with her temper."
"You're not that tall." He went back to kissing her fingers.
She stared up at the ceiling. "Preston, darling?"
"Yes, dear?"
"All the old furniture after all our remodeling here? Where is it?"
"Old furniture? What do you care?"
"Just curious."
"Well, I had it all brought up to the attic. Hideous it was, all of it. I don't know what I was thinking." He smiled at her and kissed her cheek. "I'm so glad I have you to help me decorate this place with true style. I love the furniture you picked."
"Thank you. So do I. I have to agree, the old furniture was positively dreadful. Nearly made me lose my appetite."
"Yes, definitely," he agreed. "I'm glad it's shut away up in the attic."
"It's just, I've been thinking. If it's just going to be sitting up there collecting dust, perhaps we could put it to good use instead. Make a donation to the cause."
"Cause? What cause?"
"Well, the new hospital is going to need furniture. Beds, night tables, a desk. Bureaus."
"You mean Michaela's clinic."
"I think we should just give it to her. Michaela would like it. She has no taste. And even if she doesn't like it, she has no right to be picky right now. Beggars can't be choosers."
"That's some donation. That furniture cost me a fortune when I was first building the hotel."
"Well, furniture never goes up in value. It's not worth ten percent of what you paid for it."
He thought a moment, but there wasn't very much Claudette could say right now that he was going to disagree with. He was absolutely batty in love with her, and her word was gospel. "All right, Claudette. If you want her to the have the furniture, she may have it. Free of charge."
"Good. Now she can never accuse me of not caring. This should keep her quiet for awhile."
He chuckled. "I think it's a very nice donation. You always think of such wonderful things. I married such a wonderful woman."
"Thank you, dearest." She smiled and cuddled against him, pressing her lips to his again.
"It was such a generous donation," Michaela remarked as the family gathered around the dining room table and finished supper. "But I'm afraid the Reverend doesn't quite realize just how expensive it is to run a medical practice."
"It's enough to get us goin'. We can at least start buildin'," Sully said. He took a sip of coffee.
"We'll have to start small," she said. "And I won't be able to replace all my instruments and books. But I could at least order some basic medical equipment."
"Furniture is still going to be a problem," Elizabeth remarked as she fed the baby some mashed up vegetables. "You lost your desk and all the recovery beds and other things."
"We could build it from scratch," Brian suggested. "One piece at a time."
"One recovery bed at a time," Sarah added.
"As long as we all understand this could take awhile. At least a year," Michaela said.
"I bet by the time I'm nine you'll have a new clinic," Byron remarked. "Well, maybe ten."
She smiled. "Well, if you're all so optimistic I don't know why I can't be either."
Sully mirrored her smile. "Good. We'll get started right away."
Someone knocked on the door and Sully put his napkin aside and got up to answer it.
"Preston," he breathed.
"Hey, Uncle Preston!" Katie cried.
"Uncle Preston!" Byron and Red Eagle echoed.
Preston smiled at them uncomfortably. It was going to take some getting used to hearing Michaela and Sully's children call him uncle. "I'm sorry for intruding on your supper. I just, I was wondering if I might speak to Mrs. Quinn."
"Me?" Elizabeth said, lowering the baby's spoon. "What business do you have with me?"
"It's about your investments. The ones you entrusted to me? The six weeks is up today."
"Oh, my goodness. I nearly forgot what with the fire."
He handed her a thick folder. "Here you are. If you'd like me to continue to manage them, please stop by my bank."
"Well? Did you make a profit?" Elizabeth asked curiously.
He cleared his throat. "Yes, a small one."
"Oh, good. That's a relief."
"Preston, won't you join us for supper?" Michaela said politely.
"No, I can't stay. I'm meeting Claudette at the hotel. Oh, speaking of which. She wanted me to tell you."
"Tell me what?" Michaela asked.
"I have some old furniture from when I remodeled my hotel. She thought you could use it. You're welcome to it."
Michaela exchanged an incredulous glance with Sully.
"Beds and things, things she thinks you need. For your clinic," Preston explained. "It's in the attic. You'll have to find a way to haul it away yourselves. I don't have time for that." He put his hat back on. "I need to be going. Good evening."
"Good evening," Michaela said. She tried to collect herself. "Thank you, Preston. That helps more than you know."
He nodded and headed out the door.
Sully shut the door and walked back to the table, a little taken aback.
"Well, that was kind of him. Of Claudette, too," Michaela said. "We really can rebuild now if I have furniture for my patients."
Elizabeth opened the folder Preston had given her. Her eyes widened. "Oh, my good God," she breathed.
"Mother? What is it?" Michaela asked.
She looked up in disbelief. "My money."
"At least he said he made a small profit," Michaela said.
"Small? Michaela, according to these figures he's gotten me thousands. Ten times what I started with." She looked further down the page. "And he didn't take his ten percent, either. It's what we agreed on."
Even Sully had to take a peek at the paperwork. He couldn't believe Preston to be that generous.
"But why didn't he take his commission? He must have worked so hard," Michaela asked. "Perhaps there's been some mistake."
Elizabeth slowly brightened with realization and met Michaela's eyes. "Perhaps he thought I could take that extra ten percent and put it to good use. It's yours, dear. If you want it."
Michaela looked at Sully and he nodded his approval.
"I'd say what with everybody chippin' in what they can, your clinic'll be off the ground in no time," Sully said, gently patting Elizabeth's hand.
"Thank you, Mother," Michaela said emotively. "Thank you, everyone."
"Can we start building tomorrow?" Byron asked impatiently. "I'll help saw."
"But I wanna help saw," Red Eagle said.
"I'll help saw. You can help hammer," Byron told him.
"I'd say tomorrow bright and early sounds perfect," Michaela said with a big smile.
Michaela took the kettle off the stove and filled two teacups at the kitchen table.
Martha entered the room cheerfully. "The little dearie's asleep," she said. "Oh, she looks like you! What a little darling."
"Martha, do you have a moment? I'd like to talk to you about something."
"Certainly, miss," she said. "What about?"
"Here, let's sit down," Michaela invited, pulling out a chair. "I made some tea."
"Miss?" Martha said apprehensively.
"It's all right, Martha. Take a seat."
Martha wasn't used to an employer treating her like just another close friend. It made her a bit uncomfortable to be sharing a cup of tea in this manner. But she took a seat anyway and added sugar to her tea.
Michaela folded her hands. "First off I wanted to start by thanking you for what a wonderful job you've been doing looking after my children. It's so hard to find someone you can trust and depend on to care for them, and they're not the easiest children in the world to contend with. I know they don't always mind and I appreciate your patience with them."
Martha smiled. "Nonsense. They're little dearies."
Michaela swallowed hard. "This is difficult. I don't want you to think this has anything to do with something you've done. As I said, I think you're doing a wonderful job. You always have. We both know you practically raised me. You certainly helped shaped the woman I've become and I'm grateful for that."
Martha cleared her throat, sensing there was something more to this.
"Martha � it's not that my childhood was bad. It was wonderful. And it's not that I didn't just adore you growing up. I did. But deep down I always wished my mother could come up and help me with my bath, or sit on my bed and tuck me in. Read to me. Sing to me. Or that Father didn't have to work so much and could spend time with me instead." She swallowed hard. "It hurt sometimes to know Mother was just downstairs tending to some charity obligation or entertaining, or perhaps sometimes, not really doing anything all that important, when I really just wanted her with me."
"Oh. Well, that's natural, dearie," Martha said. "All children prefer their parents."
"I suppose that's how children were always raised on Beacon Hill. But even at a young age I resented it. Fortunately, that's something Mother and I have recently had a chance to talk through, and I feel a lot better now. It's just, I always vowed if I had my own children someday, that things would be different. That I wasn't going to let them be raised by nannies like my sisters and I were. I wanted to be a part of their lives as much as I possibly could given I was trying to be a doctor and have my own practice, too." She swallowed hard. "Tucking the children in, reading to them, cooking their meals and packing their lunches. That may not seem very significant. But it is to me. It's those little things that make me feel close to Katie and Eliza and the boys. Like I'm still an important part of their lives even though I have quite a busy career." She sighed. "I admit I still have my moments where I doubt myself. Where I wonder if I've failed at this. At having a family and a medical practice."
"Oh, no, no," Martha admonished.
Michaela shrugged ever so slightly. "But when I cuddle up with the boys in their beds and we talk about our day, or nurse my baby and rock her to sleep, or braid my daughter's hair before she goes to school in the morning and she confides in me about something important that's on her mind, everything feels all right again."
Martha smiled sweetly. "A child makes everything right with the world."
Michaela met her eyes. "I'm sorry, Martha. Am I making any sense at all?"
"Perfect sense. Why, you should have said something before. I thought you wanted me to do those things! I thought you would be too tired!"
Michaela sighed with relief. "Well, sometimes I am tired. But I want to do them anyway. I suppose that's part of what comes with raising children. You love that child you brought into the world so much it doesn't matter you're tired."
"I think that's wonderful, dearie. I think you should."
"You do?"
"Yes, of course."
"Good. Martha, I want you to work for my family. I think Claudette's right, the children really would benefit from a nanny. But, a nanny who isn't working all the time. When I come home in the evenings, I won't usually need you. That's a time when I just want to be alone with my family."
"Yes, of course. Oh, I must admit I'm somewhat relieved! I was getting a little worn out myself working here so much and helping out Miss Claudette as well! But I was afraid you'd be upset if I told you I didn't prefer to work this many hours!" She chuckled and shook her head.
Michaela smiled. "Oh, dear."
"Oh, Miss Michaela. The little dearies are going to be thrilled to see more of you!"
"They will?" she murmured.
"Yes, why wouldn't they? All I hear all day is how Mummy does things this way or that way, and how much better Mummy's way is. And how not to worry, Mummy will do it properly when she gets home, never fear!"
Michaela smiled. "Really?" She wasn't sure if what Martha said was true, but for some reason, it didn't seem to matter. "Oh, Martha. Mother and Father were so lucky to find you. You're wonderful."
"No, no. I was lucky to find the Quinns," she replied.
Michaela hugged her. "I'm sorry. I should have talked to your right away about this. I never should have kept it to myself for so long. I just, I didn't want to hurt your feelings."
Martha patted her back. "Don't apologize for not wanting to offend me. You are as sweet as the day you were born, Miss Michaela, that you are."
"There's just one more thing, Martha."
"What's that?"
"Well, I'd like the children to make their beds themselves each morning and do their chores. It's kind of you to want to help out, but I think chores are good for them. Sully and I want to instill in them a sense of responsibility, and I think chores are the right step in that direction."
"Oh. Yes, I see. Yes, I think chores are good for them, too. Certainly."
Michaela hugged her tightly and let out a giant sigh of relief. "Thank you, Martha. For everything."
"Oh, your feet are cold! Get those icy feet away!" Michaela said as she slid under the covers beside Red Eagle in her bed. "Byron, monkey, you get in, too. Make room for Katie."
The children all piled in under the covers, giggling and delighting in being permitted to join Michaela in her bed under the warm quilts beside a blazing fire.
"This is the one Nanny Martha started with us," Katie explained, handing Michaela a thick book. "We're on chapter two."
Michaela slowly opened it. "Speaking of Nanny Martha."
"I love her, don�t you, Mama?" Byron said.
Michaela smoothed his hair. "I'm glad to hear you love her. She loves you. And as long as she wants to, she's going to be your nanny."
"Goodie," Byron said.
"It's just, I wanted to tell you, she's not going to be working quite so much here anymore," Michaela explained carefully.
"Why? Is she too busy helping Auntie Claudette?" Red Eagle asked, hugging his knees.
"Well, no, not exactly. It's just, Mama doesn't need her when Mama gets home from work. Martha can go home then and eat supper with Auntie Claudette and Uncle Preston. And she's not going to be working on Saturday and Sunday anymore. At least not typically."
Byron wrinkled his brow. "Oh. Who's gonna stay with us? Sarah?"
"Miss Grace?" Red Eagle asked.
"Miss Dorothy?" Katie suggested.
"What about Mr. Bray? You could ask him," Red Eagle added. "I bet he would do it."
She slowly closed the book. "Well, no, we're not going to be hiring someone else. Mama and Papa will look after you. And Grandma. Mama will stay with you and spend time with you as much as I can in the evenings and on the weekends as long as an emergency doesn't come up."
"Oh. Goodie," Byron said, hugging her arm.
"Is that all right?" Michaela asked tentatively. "I mean, you won't miss Martha too much?"
The children all looked at her like she was crazy.
"No! We want you, Mama," Red Eagle said.
"Yeah, we want you, Mama," Katie said. "I mean, I like Martha. But we don't like when you work."
"Yeah," Byron added. "We don't like when you work!"
She kissed his head and put her arms around them. "I'm sorry. You know, Mama saves a lot of lives when she goes to work. Mama helps sick people get well again and delivers babies like Faye's baby Jack and even sometimes pulls out very sore teeth. I know that doesn't make it much easier on you being apart. But when I was a little girl missing my Father, it helped to know all the good he was doing at the hospital."
"And you help me with asthma. Know what, Mama? I'm proud of you. I'm glad my ma's a doctor," Byron said resolutely, obviously having given the matter a lot of thought.
Michaela's eyes welled with tears. "You are?" she choked.
"Uh-huh. But I still miss you when you're at work," Byron whispered.
"Oh. I miss you, too. I think about you all the time. Each one of you," Michaela said, wrapping her arms around them all the tighter.
"Mama, know why I like when Nanny Martha comes over?" Katie said.
"Why's that?"
"Because when Martha's with us I don't miss you so much. She makes me feel better."
"Hey, yeah," Byron said. "She makes it better."
"Yeah, she does," Red Eagle added.
Tears slipped down her cheeks. "Good. I'm so glad." She kissed Katie's head. "I love you."
"I love you," Katie said sweetly.
Michaela enveloped them all in a big hug. "This is my favorite part of the day. My most favorite part of the day."
"That's nice. Can we read the story now?" Byron asked.
She chuckled and opened the book again. "Yes, indeed. Let's!"
