For personal use and select distribution only © by Becky 2004

Michaela focused intently on her work as she stood at her patient's side, gently pressing down on her belly.

Faye Davis gazed at the row of shiny, frightening instruments on a tray beside the examination table, enduring the examination as she lifted her head to glance uneasily at Michaela.

"What's wrong? Is this painful?" Michaela asked, briefly meeting her eyes.

"No, not at all. I just, I never had this done before," Faye explained bashfully.

Michaela smiled reassuringly, pulling the sheet down over the patient's legs and helping her sit up. "We're almost finished."

"Good," Faye replied, swallowing.

"Can you remember the first day of your last monthly?" Michaela asked, picking up a chart and a pencil.

"My monthly? Why ya need to know that?"

Michaela made a few notes on the chart. "So I can tell you when your baby's due. You can get dressed now."

"Ya mean to say you can figure the exact day he's gonna be born?" Faye asked, getting down from the table and walking behind the screens nearby.

She glanced up with a wry grin. "I'm afraid it's only an estimate. If I gave guarantees I'd be out of the business."

Faye draped her examination gown over the top of the screens. "Well, I can't hardly remember. January fifteenth, maybe? Somewhere around there."

"The end of October then. I'll say October twenty-third." Michaela scribbled down the date, closed the chart and slid it into the front of the D-E-F drawer of the filing cabinet.

"October twenty-third," Faye repeated. "I like the sound of that." She buttoned up the back of her dress, remaining quiet for a moment before she spoke again. "Dr. Mike, Kirk and me, we're just gettin' back on our feet right now, and we-"

"It's fine. You can pay me when you can."

"No, no. It ain't fine," Faye said, draping her shawl over her shoulders and coming out from behind the screens. "We're gonna give ya cash for this appointment and all the rest comin', that I promise ya. In the meantime, ya gotta take some of my preserves."

Michaela picked up a jar of peaches Faye had placed on the corner of her desk. "I'm the one who should be paying you for these, Faye. They're just delicious."

"Really? Ya think so?"

"Have you given any more thought to asking Loren to stock them in the store? I know my family can't be the only ones who would enjoy them."

"I wouldn't know how to ask him," Faye said shyly, clutching her shawl to her neck. "I'd be scared to."

"Loren can be a little brisk but he's a fair man. Most of the time at least. He would stock them. I know he would."

Faye shook her head. "I never asked anybody to do a favor like that for me. I just don't think I could."

"Well, if you give him some of the profit, he gets something out of it, too. Loren just takes a little persuading. I've learned that."

"I know, you can come with me. Would ya? You can talk him into it. You're good at things like that."

"Well, I suppose I could come along."

"Oh, I knew you would!" Faye exclaimed. "Thank you, Dr. Mike!"

"Are you busy tomorrow, Faye? Perhaps you and Kirk and the baby could have supper with us. It's been a little lonely with Sully and Brian away."

"We don't got any plans. We'll come. You hear any more word from those two?"

Michaela circled her desk and opened the side drawer, pulling out several sheets of paper and unfolding them. "Brian wrote us a wonderful letter. Unfortunately, it doesn't sound like many politicians are very interested in what he and Sully have to say. But they have managed to meet with a few California representatives, and Senator Booth and Senator Farley. It seems several representatives from the state were hardly even aware Yosemite existed. It's quite appalling really."

"Washington!" Faye said reverently. "To think they're halfway across the country, gettin' to see a grand place like that!"

"Well, despite the setbacks it sounds like they're having a good time," Michaela said, slowly unfolding another smaller piece of paper.

"And Sully?" Faye asked perceptively. "What'd he have to say?"

Michaela lifted up the paper to the light. Disappointment was all across her brow. "Be home soon," she read. "I love you. Sully."

"Oh. That's all?" Faye questioned.

"He never was one for lengthy, romantic letters," Michaela said, folding it with a sigh.

"Men," Faye remarked. "They sure can be tirin' sometimes!"

Michaela grinned despite herself. "That's an interesting way of putting it."

"Well, he said the one thing that's most important," Faye said, patting her arm reassuringly. "The one thing ya needed to hear."

"Yes, you're right," Michaela replied quietly. "I know they haven't been gone for very long, I just, I miss them so terribly. It's silly."

Faye gave her a comforting hug. "Oh, it ain't silly. But just one more week and then they'll be back. Don't worry, it'll fly by."

"Michaela," Dorothy said as she opened the door. Her cheerful smile quickly faded. "Oh, Miz Davis. I didn't know you were here. I'll come by later."

Michaela stepped back. "No, that's all right, Dorothy. Please, come in."

"I saw your husband in the store earlier, startin' an account," Dorothy remarked politely, shutting the door. "Says you got another baby on the way. Congratulations."

Faye smiled, touching the small swelling at her belly. "Thank you. Dr. Mike told me he's gonna be born October twenty-third. I don't know how she knows that but I guess I'll take her word for it."

"Dr. Mike's word can usually be trusted," Dorothy said with a grin. "Michaela, I'm about to have lunch at the cafe. Join me?"

Michaela cleared her throat. "Oh. Actually Faye and I just came from there."

"You did?" Dorothy replied. "Well, that's all right. Another time. What about tomorrow? We can get some coffee in the mornin'."

"Tomorrow's fine," Michaela replied, glancing at Faye uncomfortably.

Dorothy followed her gaze. "Oh. Why don't you come, too?"

Faye shook her head timidly.

"Faye, you should come and bring some of your preserves so Dorothy can try them," Michaela said.

"No, you two haven't seen each other in a year," Faye said. "You need some time alone to catch up. It's all right. Really." She reached for the door and opened it. "See you later, Dr. Mike."

"Goodbye," Michaela called as Faye shut the door.

Dorothy glanced out the door window, shaking her head. "Oh, it's such a shame."

"What's a shame?" Michaela asked, walking to the examination table and folding the sheet draped over it.

"Why, Miz Davis and her husband," Dorothy explained. "The way those children jumped right into marriage and now the poor girl's carryin' again before the first one's barely a few months old. Reminds me of Marcus and me."

"Kirk would never hurt Faye," Michaela said firmly, placing the sheet in her laundry basket. "And they may be a little young but to be honest I've never seen a couple more dedicated to making their marriage work."

"A little young!" Dorothy exclaimed. "Michaela, she can't be more than seventeen years old."

"She turned eighteen last winter," Michaela said defensively. "Dorothy, Faye's had a terrible time of it the past few months. She's been very ill since her little girl was born. She doesn't need criticism right now. She needs love and support."

Dorothy softened. "Well, she's got a wonderful doctor lookin' after her."

Michaela slowly smiled. "This was the first time she's ever been examined. She was trembling the entire time she was so nervous."

Dorothy pressed her hand to her heart. "Just like how I was! You know, there's one thing she's right about. We need to catch up!"

Michaela walked back to her. "We certainly do. I can't wait until tomorrow."

"Same here. I got some big news to tell you," Dorothy replied excitedly.

"Big news? What?"

Dorothy patted her hand. "You'll have to wait until tomorrow!"

"But we didn't have homework," Katie said simply.

Byron peeked into his pail with a frown. "Where's the dessert? You didn't put any cookies in, Mama."

Jack waved his arms from the bench and looked up at Michaela impatiently. "Mama!"

"Cookies. Oh, dear. I forgot." Michaela lifted the baby off the bench and patted his back. "With Brian and your father away it's all I can do to get the three of you ready on time and into town each morning. It's not an easy job."

"We must be pretty hard work," Byron remarked. "This is the second time you forgot the cookies in a row!"

Michaela smiled and stooped to kiss his head. She paused to smooth down a cowlick the little boy had a habit of ignoring when he combed his hair each morning. "I'll remember them tomorrow. I promise. Don't be late for school."

"Bye, Mama," Byron replied cheerfully, tucking his dusty slate under his arm and scurrying off the porch.

Katie hugged Michaela tightly. "Bye-bye, Mama. Bye, Jack."

"Have a good day, sweetheart. Be careful crossing the street," Michaela replied, straightening and waving as the two ran in the direction of the meadow. She turned her attention to the baby and gave him a kiss. "Come on, Jack. Let's go see your Auntie Dorothy." She walked around to the side of the clinic and through the back entrance of the cafe, spotting Dorothy seated and waiting for her at one of the tables nearby.

Dorothy immediately waved, a collections of letters piled in front of her.

"He's comin' here, Michaela," she began with a grin.

"Who's coming?" Michaela asked, sitting down in the chair across from her and settling Jack in her lap.

"Joshua," she said, handing Michaela one of the letters. "Joshua Jennings, my nephew. Marcus' brother's son from Des Moines. I've just been dyin' to tell you."

Michaela skimmed the letter. "Oh, apparently he just graduated from the University of Illinois. That's in Chicago isn't it? That's very prestigious."

"I'm so proud of him. His ma passed on a few years back. Came down with the pneumonia real sudden. He took it hard. It seems goin' away to school did him a lotta good. He's been traveling all over Europe, too. Paris, Frankfurt, London. Just think of it, Michaela. I can't wait to see him and hear all about it."

"You never mentioned him before. Are you quite close?" Michaela asked.

"I all but lost touch with Marcus' side, after he passed on and I moved into the store. I haven't seen any of them in years. But every Christmas, I'd send Joshua and his brother and sister some books. Then just this past year, Joshua wrote me a letter saying those books were the reason he left home and went to college. He says he felt like he finally had a choice in life. We been exchanging letters almost every month since then!"

Michaela smiled. "My father always encouraged my sisters and me to read as much as we could. From the time I was an infant he would take me into his library, sit me on his knee and read to me. His books taught me how enjoyable learning can be."

"Well, you'll love Joshua. You're exactly alike, Michaela."

"What's all the fuss about?" Grace asked as she strolled over to the table with two steaming plates of scrambled eggs and sausages.

"Dorothy's nephew is going to be visiting Colorado Springs," Michaela explained.

"And I wrote him all about you, Grace," Dorothy added. "And you, too, Michaela."

"You did?" Grace asked, grinning shyly as she set the plates in front of them.

Dorothy placed her napkin in her lap. She was proud of her friends, and wanted everyone to know it. "Of course. He thinks it's remarkable the way you two started your own businesses all on your own. I can't wait for him to meet you. And he wants to see the clinic. I told him you would show him all around, Michaela."

"That's very flattering, but I'm sure he's only being polite," Michaela said, picking up her spoon and feeding Jack a small bite of the eggs. "Besides, there's not much to see right now. Sully had only just finished tearing down the back wall before he and Brian left. The place is in complete disarray." She cut into her sausage and took a bite.

"Maybe Joshua'll still be around to see Sully finish the recovery rooms," Dorothy said.

"When's he comin' here?" Grace asked. "Soon?"

"Tomorrow mornin's train," Dorothy replied.

"Just in time for lunch. Bring him over here once he arrives," Grace replied. "His first meal in Colorado Springs is on the house."

"Oh, thank you, Grace," Dorothy said.

"Grace! More coffee?" a customer called impatiently from across the cafe, holding up his mug.

"Comin'," Grace replied, smiling apologetically at the women and spinning around to walk back to her kitchen.

"You have to come with me to pick him up tomorrow," Dorothy said, stacking together her letters.

Michaela fed the baby another bite of eggs and wiped his mouth with her napkin. Jack was less inclined to make a mess of his food than Katie and Byron were as infants, but she still felt like she was constantly wiping up spills. "Oh, no. I wouldn't want to impose. You haven't seen him in so long."

"Don't be silly. I want you to be there," Dorothy said. "I want the first person he meets here to be my best friend. Please?"

"If you really want me to. I just hope you haven't led him to believe that my practice is anything more than it is. If so I'm afraid he'll be in for a disappointment. Colorado Springs isn't anything like Chicago."

"Oh, Michaela. He's going to love the clinic. And you! Don't you worry!"

"No, not even close," she replied, pressing the bell of her stethoscope to his back. "Cough again please."

Seth raised his hand and coughed dryly into it, his dark eyes tearing with the effort.

"He's been carrying on like this for better than a week," Mrs. Barrett spoke up, standing impatiently beside the table. "I thought he was long over that catarrh."

Michaela removed her stethoscope from her ears and stepped back to face them, discreetly inhaling the subtle aroma clinging to the young man's vest. "Well, you don't have any other symptoms. It's not bronchitis or another catarrh. Can you stick out your tongue?"

Seth opened his mouth wide, glancing at his mother uneasily.

Michaela leaned forward and sniffed more overtly. "Yes, I think I know what it is."

"You do? Well, what?" Mrs. Barrett demanded.

"You've been smoking. And quite often, I would guess," she said shrewdly. "Cigars, is it?"

Seth dropped his mouth closed and swallowed guiltily.

"Cigars! He don't fancy a thing like that! He's just a boy," Mrs. Barrett protested. "Seth, tell Dr. Mike you don't do that kinda thing."

"No, ma'am!" Seth said, swallowing again. "Well, that's not to say I haven't...haven't tried it-"

"What?" Mrs. Barrett exclaimed. "It's your big brothers, that's where you been getting those filthy things. I declare, they get you into more mischief than I can shake a stick at."

"Well, it don't hurt me," Seth replied, sliding down from the examination table. "'Sides, I'm old enough."

"I'm afraid it has hurt you," Michaela said. "It's most likely the cause of your chronic cough."

As if on cue, Seth raised his hand and coughed forcefully several times. "Just tell me what I gotta do to make this go away. Please."

"Simple. Stop smoking those cigars from your brothers," Michaela said with a smile.

"Boy, I oughta lick you good," Mrs. Barrett said, shaking her head with a sigh. "What do we owe you, Dr. Mike?"

Michaela walked to the bassinette in the corner, lifting the baby from the blankets and resting him over her shoulder. "Just come back to see me in a week without this cough, Seth, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," Seth muttered, lowering his head as his mother escorted him out the door.

"He's a handful, Dr. Mike," Mrs. Barrett said, pausing in the doorway as Seth climbed into their buggy and grabbed the reins. She eyed Jack with a sigh. "Take my advice: Keep him that little as long as you can."

Michaela chuckled, glancing at the baby. "I'll certainly try. Good day, Mrs. Barrett."

"See you next week," she replied, climbing up onto the seat next to Seth.

"Michaela, hurry!" Dorothy called, scurrying down the street toward the clinic. "Train's gonna be here any minute."

Michaela closed the door and stepped down from the porch as the train whistle blew in the distance. "I'm coming."

"I hope Mrs. Barrett hasn't taken sick," Dorothy said, glancing at the buggy as it pulled away. "Every morning she brings Loren the largest eggs in town to sell in the store."

"Oh, it wasn't her. It's her youngest, Seth. But I think he's going to be feeling much better very soon."

"Glad to hear that," Dorothy said as they approached the station where the train was pulling in atop a cloud of steam.

"Look, Jack. Choo-choo train," Michaela said.

Jack pointed at the engine with a giggle as passengers began climbing down from the car. "Too!"

"Choo-choo. That's right, sweetheart," Michaela replied proudly.

"If he isn't sayin' something new every day, Michaela," Dorothy remarked. "Oh, he's growin' up so fast!"

"You're coming to his birthday party, aren't you?"

"Oh, of course! I wouldn't miss it," Dorothy said, tentatively stepping closer to the train and eyeing a tall and trim, handsome young man in a fashionable brown suit and neat tie. "Joshua?"

The man placed his suitcase at his feet and removed his hat, revealing slicked-back, dark hair. His expression of puzzlement rapidly turned to relief. "Aunt Dorothy!"

"Joshua!" Dorothy exclaimed, bursting into a grin and embracing him tightly. "Oh, just look at you!"

"I grew up," he said, squeezing her close and lifting her off her feet ever so slightly. "It's so good to see ya after all these years."

Dorothy pulled back and pressed her hand to her mouth. "If you aren't the spittin' image of your pa. And your Uncle Marcus."

"That's what everybody says," he replied, straightening his suit coat and glancing around. "So this is Colorado Springs. Reminds me a lot of home. Except not as flat!"

Dorothy took his hand, beaming even more. "And this is Michaela. The greatest friend anybody could ask for."

Michaela shifted Jack to her hip and held out her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"This...this is Michaela?" Joshua stammered, glancing at Dorothy incredulously.

Dorothy chuckled. "And you have the manners of that side of the family, too. Shake her hand, Joshua!"

"I'll do more than that," Joshua replied, taking Michaela's hand and giving it a chivalrous kiss. "Forgive me, ma'am. It's just my Aunt Dorothy here neglected to mention in her letters that this doctor friend of hers is also a very youthful and enchanting lady."

Michaela smiled timidly. "Thank you, but-"

"Ah, no buts," Joshua interrupted, turning his attention to the baby. "And who's this handsome cowboy?"

"Oh, this is my son Jack."

Joshua held out his arms with a wide smile, taking the baby from Michaela. "Jack! Well, you're a sturdy little thing! How old is he?"

"He'll have his first birthday next week," Michaela replied.

"He's havin' a big party, too," Dorothy added.

Jack squinted his eyes and slowly broke into whimpers.

"What is it, birthday boy?" Joshua asked, gently bouncing him into the air a few times. "Oh, I know. You want back to your mama, don't ya?"

"I'm sorry. Lately he's been a little shy around strangers," Michaela said, taking the baby from him and rubbing his back reassuringly.

"All babies go through that around this age," Dorothy added helpfully.

"Well, we'll see how long I stay a stranger, huh?" Joshua replied, pinching the baby's cheek playfully.

"We need to get you settled in," Dorothy said. "And I bet you're hungry. We'll get something at Grace's as soon as you're unpacked."

"You'll have to excuse me. I have a few more patients to see this morning," Michaela spoke up. "Perhaps you could stop by the clinic sometime during your visit."

"My aunt here promised you'd give me the grand tour," Joshua replied.

"There's not much to see, but yes, of course. If you'd like."

"Until then, Michaela," Joshua said. He patted the baby's back. "Until then, Jack."

"It was nice meeting you, Joshua," Michaela said with a smile. She stepped down from the platform and headed back to the clinic.

Dorothy put her arm around Joshua and held him close. "I can't get over you. All grown up."

He grinned and hugged her to his side. "Thanks for letting me come here, Aunt Dorothy."

"Let you!?" she exclaimed. "Joshua, I've been beggin' you to visit me for years."

"I reckon so. Hey, how's Tom doing? And the girls? I brag about T.J. all the time, my cousin the war hero. Bet he killed dozens of rebels."

"Oh. Well, they're....they're fine," she said quietly. "Joshua, let's get your things and head to the cafe, get some lunch."

"Sounds great," he replied cheerfully.

"No, you're too modest," Joshua protested, folding his arms and glancing around. "I think you've done real well given what you had to start. Everything's so organized, so orderly." He strolled across the room, reaching his hand out to touch the layers of drop cloths hanging across the back wall. "And what's behind these curtains? Don't tell me this is where you keep the bodies!"

Michaela chuckled. "That's where the new recovery rooms are going to be. Two of them. My husband was almost finished before he left."

"Left where?"

"He's in Washington with our son Brian," she explained a bit soulfully. Once again she was reminded of how much she missed them. "It's complicated."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asked.

"Please. Are you familiar with construction?"

Joshua pushed back the cloths to reveal the work area. The floor was covered in sawdust and littered with a few wood scraps. The basic frame of the two recovery rooms was laid out with beams and the back wall had been built to shield the area from the outside elements. "My pa and I helped to raise some barns in our day," he explained, taking a few steps into the area. "You're right. Looks like all that's left is to put in your windowpanes, install the doors, caulk everything. It would take two or three days of hard work at the most."

"Sully said as soon as he gets back he'll try to finish. Although I'm afraid it could be awhile. He's been busy looking for a more permanent job with our friend Kirk."

"Seems times are tough for everybody these days," Joshua replied, finding a toolbox resting in one of the corners and pulling out a hammer. "You know, it's been awhile since I've gotten my hands on well-crafted tools like these. I've missed that. And a part of me is always going to miss the farm we had."

"I suppose we always feel some sort of connection to our roots," she remarked.

"Michaela, I have the perfect idea," he said suddenly, turning the hammer in his hands. "Why don't you let me finish up this project? If I came by every afternoon I could have it done in no time."

"You? But you're here to see your Aunt Dorothy. You don't want to spend your visit here working."

"Aw, she's going to be busy running her Gazette. She can't have me lingering around the place making a nuisance of myself every hour of the day."

"That's very generous of you, Joshua, but I really can't accept."

"What am I going to do with myself otherwise?" he said, dropping the hammer back into the toolbox. "I'd love to take on something like this. Besides, it would keep me out of trouble."

She shook her head. "But I can't pay you."

"You'd be doing me a favor, giving me something to keep my hands busy. And then when your husband comes home, you can surprise him with the finished product!"

"Well...I suppose," she said hesitantly.

"Mama, we got out early!" Katie exclaimed, thrusting open the door and running inside.

Michaela turned with surprise as Katie held up an oversized piece of paper. "Katie, you didn't knock!" she scolded gently.

"I forgot. I painted a bird in school today. Look."

Michaela stooped to her level, examining the damp watercolor painting of a faintly discernable blue jay. "This is wonderful, sweetheart. I like the colors. May I hang it on the wall?"

Katie beamed, nodding enthusiastically.

Michaela stood, putting her arm around Katie. "Joshua, this is my daughter. This is Mr. Jennings, Katie. He's visiting Miss Dorothy from a city called Des Moines."

"No, please. Call me Joshua," he said, squatting and caressing her braid. "And if your hair ain't the prettiest color I ever did see. I bet you hear that a lot, don't ya?"

Katie giggled, shyly taking Michaela's hand.

"Katie, where's your brother?" Michaela asked.

Katie turned to the door where Byron was lingering. "He's hiding. He got a note from Miz Teresa."

Michaela sighed. "Another note? Byron, come in here."

Reluctantly, Byron stepped into the room.

"Let me see the note," Michaela instructed, holding out her hand.

Slowly, Byron dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, passing it to his mother.

Michaela unfolded the paper and quickly read it, letting out another deep sigh. "Throwing paint? Oh, Byron."

"I didn't mean to," he said weakly.

"We'll talk about it later, all right? Go say hello to our guest."

"Hey there, son," Joshua spoke up.

Byron walked to him. "Hey."

"You wouldn't happen to be the namesake of the greatest lyricist of all time, would you? I suspected your ma had good taste."

"Actually, it's after his father," Michaela spoke up with a small smile. "Sully had never liked the namebut he and I agree that it suits our son."

"Well, chin up, Lord Byron. It can't be that bad," Joshua said, nudging Byron's chin into the air with the back of his hand and simultaneously producing a penny between his thumb and forefinger.

"Whoa!" Byron exclaimed, eyes wide.

"How'd you do that?" Katie added.

Joshua placed the penny in Byron's hand. "That's for you two. Get yourselves some licorice next time you're over at Mr. Bray's store, all right?"

"Thanks!" Byron said, clutching the coin to his chest.

"Can we go get some now, Mama?" Katie asked eagerly. "Please?"

"Please?" Byron added plaintively.

"All right. But stay together. And don't get in Mr. Bray's way."

The children readily scampered out of the clinic, giggling delightedly.

"Katie, Byron!" Michaela called after them. "Don't run in the street!"

"So those two rascals belong to you?" Joshua spoke up playfully, folding his arms.

"Sometimes they can be quite a challenge," she replied with a grin. "You didn't have to do that, give them that penny."

He shrugged. "I was looking for a chance to show off my new trick."

Michaela unfolded the note from Teresa again and strolled to her desk chair, sinking into it.

"Byron don't strike me as the type to get himself into mischief," Joshua remarked.

Michaela placed the note on her desk and sat back in her chair dejectedly. What she really wanted was to talk with Sully about their son, but that was impossible at the moment. "He's not. This is something new. His teacher tells me he refused to paint with the other children and even tried to splatter some paint on another student. And that's only what happened today. He's been defiant and uncooperative for the past few weeks. I don't know what else to do."

"Something could be on his mind," he suggested. "It's hard payin' attention if your thoughts are getting in the way."

"I don't know what it could be. Katie and Brian do so well in school. They've always loved every minute of it. But it's been harder for Byron."

"I suppose not everybody's gonna learn at the same pace," he replied. "Maybe Byron's pace is just different than what his teacher's used to. And his ma."

She gazed at the note thoughtfully. "I suppose. I'm afraid I'm not as patient with him as I'd like to be."

"Guess you'll have to work on that," he replied, approaching her desk. "And while you're doin' that, will ya let me work on your recovery rooms here?"

She slowly smiled. "All right. Only to help 'keep you out of trouble.'"

"Sounds good," he replied. "When do I start?"

She shrugged. "I don't see why you couldn't start now."

He held out his hand. "A week and I'll have this done."

She shook with him. "Well, it's a deal then."

Michaela tucked the covers around him with a smile. "Well, it won't quite be the biggest. But it'll certainly be a much-needed improvement."

"Maybe I'll have a clinic when I'm all growned up," he said, folding his hands beneath his head and gazing up at the ceiling thoughtfully. "A real big one."

"Really? You'd like to be a doctor someday?"

"Maybe. You want me to?"

"I'd love that. But more importantly I want you to do something that makes you happy. Right now I want you to focus on doing your best in school so that when you're older you can be anything you want. Even a doctor."

He pursed his lips guiltily. "Sorry I threw paint at Will today."

"I am, too. What's wrong, Byron? Why does Miss Teresa keep sending you home with notes?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I guess I'm just a bad kid."

She sighed. "I know that's not true and so do you. Your behavior lately is certainly not acceptable. I'm very disappointed."

"Mama, I don't mean it," he said impatiently.

"If you don't mean it then why does it keep happening? Is it your teacher? Do you dislike Miss Teresa?"

He thought a moment. "No. I like her."

"Are you frustrated with the schoolwork?" she asked quietly. "School can be difficult sometimes. It's all right to feel discouraged."

"It's easy for Katie," he whispered. "And Brian."

"Well, that's true. But everyone has trouble sometimes. Everyone does poorly sometimes. You just have to keep trying."

"You did bad on a test, Mama?" he asked hopefully. "You used to do bad like me?"

Michaela hesitated. "Well, I...I never actually failed anything but...but we're not talking about me."

"Even you never did bad," he said downheartedly. "The teacher never gave you a note to take home."

"Oh, sweetheart. Just tell me what you need help with and I'll help you."

"You can't. You said you're really, really busy because Papa's in Washin'ton."

"No, I'm never too busy for you," she said. "Never."

He turned to his side and hugged his stuffed puppy to his chest, letting out a deep sigh.

Michaela reached out and gently stroked his hair. "I know you're going through something very difficult, and I'm sorry I don't know what it is. But I want you to know that I'm going to be patient. I'm going to try very hard to be patient until you're ready to talk about it. If you'll be patient, too?"

He gradually nodded.

"Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispered, leaning down and kissing his cheek. "I love you."

"Oh, good mornin', Dr. Mike," Loren replied, a clipboard braced against his chest as he busily inventoried the supplies stocked on the shelves.

"He's going to say no," Faye whispered, reluctantly placing her basket on the counter.

"Not after he tastes them," Michaela replied. "Loren, do you have a minute? We have a proposition for you."

"You and your propositions," Loren said as he continued to make notes on his clipboard.

"This one's a good one," Michaela replied wryly.

He walked to the counter and rested his clipboard on it. "All right, what is it this time? Let's hear it. Nobody's gettin' any younger."

"Faye's brought you some of her preserves," Michaela began, removing the cloth from the basket to reveal several jars. "She makes everything. Pickles, peaches, cherries. And they're all wonderful."

"I got so many I don't know what to do with them all," Faye spoke up shyly.

Loren pulled out one of the jars with a small smile. "Well, they do look good."

"I assure you they are," Michaela said. "What would you say to stocking some of them in the store?"

Loren put down the jar. "I get all the mercantile's canned goods from my suppliers in Denver. I've been doin' business with them for years, Dr. Mike. Sorry, but I can't help you."

"We're prepared to give you ten percent of the profits," Michaela said persistently.

"Twenty percent. I can go up to twenty," Faye said.

"Make it sixty and you got yourself a deal," Loren replied.

"Sixty!" Michaela exclaimed. "That's practically robbery, Loren."

"It sure is," Joshua spoke up as he padded down the stairs carrying a crate.

"Who asked you?" Loren grumbled, picking up his clipboard.

"Mornin', Dr. Mike. Ma'am," Joshua said, propping the crate against his side and slapping Loren on the back. "Is he giving you lovely ladies a hard time?"

"I didn't expect to see you here, Joshua," Michaela said.

"Just swung by to lend my Uncle Loren a hand stocking this shipment," Joshua replied.

"I'm not your uncle, I'm happy to say," Loren replied. "You go on now. I don't need your help anymore."

"I think that's very generous of you, Joshua," Michaela said. "And Loren, you shouldn't be lifting crates like these with that back of yours. I suggest you take advantage of your nephew."

"He's not my nephew!"

"Oh, what do we have here?" Joshua asked, holding up one of the jars of peaches. "These look great. Don't tell me this is what Uncle Loren doesn't want any part of."

Loren sighed impatiently. "Look, you can't expect me to gamble on a thing like this. Any good businessman would say the same thing. What if they don't sell? What if they ain't as good as they look? I gotta go with what I know is gonna sell, and that's my suppliers."

"But with Faye right in town, you won't have to worry about ordering shipments and waiting for them to arrive," Michaela said. "And the quality of these preserves is certainly much better than your suppliers, so you'll sell much more. You'll make more money, Loren. You win by all accounts."

"Oh, is that so? You know so much about it, why don't you open up a mercantile of your own?" Loren replied with a laugh, picking up his clipboard. "I gotta get back to work. Good day."

Faye packed her preserves back in the basket and tucked it under her arm. "Thanks for tryin', Dr. Mike. You're so kind to me."

"I'm sorry I couldn't help," Michaela said, gently patting her arm. "I'm sorry."

"No, it was silly of me to think it could work. Me as smart as you and Miss Dorothy and Miss Grace, havin' my own business and all? No, it was just a silly dream. I need to be goin'." She forced a cheerful smile and quickly turned, hurrying out of the mercantile.

"She's a friend of yours I take it," Joshua said.

"Oh, I didn't introduce you," Michaela said. "That was Faye Davis. She's a very close friend of the family."

Joshua rested against the doorframe. "I sure hate to see a sweet thing like that be so disappointed. I oughta give Loren a piece of my mind, making that girl cry."

"No, Loren had a right to turn us down," Michaela replied thoughtfully. "I'm just disappointed that I couldn't persuade him otherwise. I was so confident that I could. I suppose it's my fault for filling Faye with such hope."

"Adam Smith," Joshua murmured, gazing out at the busy street.

"Adam Smith?" Michaela repeated. "You mean the economist?"

"Right. You're familiar with his work, too?"

"'The Wealth of Nations.' I read it years ago. He was a brilliant man."

"Do you know what he would say if he were here?" Joshua said. "He would tell us to find another store. Go to the competition!"

"I'm afraid Loren owns the only general store for miles."

"Oh. That is a problem."

"Unless," Michaela said, glancing down the street at the clinic.

"Unless?" Joshua replied.

"Of course. I'll sell Faye's preserves out of my clinic. Many townsfolk pass through it each day. And once her preserves start selling, Loren will have to stock them. He won't be able to refuse. Thank you, Joshua. What a wonderful idea."

"Hey, I think that was your idea."

"But I was about to give up until you brought up Adam Smith. I suppose we're a team then," Michaela said, beaming at him. "I have to catch up with Faye and tell her."

Joshua watched from the store porch as Michaela hurried down the street to stop Faye. He folded his arms across his chest and let out a contented sigh as Faye and Michaela embraced tightly and then headed to the clinic, arms around each other and all smiles.

"Women and their fool ideas," Loren remarked, strolling back to Joshua. "When it comes to Dr. Mike there's just no end in sight!"

"Maybe it was a good idea, Lo-" Joshua said, suddenly hunching over and dropping the crate.

"Joshua! What's wrong?" Loren exclaimed.

Joshua winced, touching his hand to his knee and slowly rising back to his full height. "Nothing. Just a cramp in my leg is all. All that lifting."

"I can get this one," Loren said, squatting down and picking up the crate. "Now get out of here like I told you. Go bother somebody else."

"I can't say I completely agree with all the man's ideas," Joshua went on, straddling a board across the saw horse. "Smith was an absolutist, so to speak. The invisible hand that moves the free market forward. Do you have a tape measure somewhere?"

"I'm sure Sully does." Michaela crouched down and looked through the toolbox. "Here it is."

Joshua reached down and took it from her, unraveling it across the board. "I myself am more skeptical. I think a small amount of regulation is necessary to keep larger businesses from taking advantage of the rest of us."

"I agree. Government has a moral obligation to take care of its people."

Joshua marked off a measurement with his pencil and then stuck the pencil behind his ear. "So not only have you studied Adam Smith but I'm willing to bet you've read John Locke, too."

"Many times. My father had an extensive library next to his office," Michaela said. "He and I would spend hours in there, reading his books together. Mother said he spoiled me."

"You can never spoil the mind," he said, rolling up the tape measure. "I can't believe I've met someone who appreciates the great works of literature like me. You don't know how rare you are, Michaela, especially here out West, so far from the big cities."

Michaela crossed the room and looked through a small stack of books on her desk. "I enjoyed Smith and Locke, but let me show you my real love." She returned to his side and handed him a well-worn volume.

"Emerson!" he breathed. "This is amazing. He happens to be my favorite essayist, too."

"He's simply poetic," she said whimsically. "I especially like his thoughts on friendship."

"'I do not wish to treat friendships daintily, but with roughest courage,'" Joshua recited. "'When they are real, they are not glass threads or frostwork-"

"'But the solidest thing we know,'" Michaela finished with a pleased smile. "You know it by heart, Joshua. I'm impressed."

"Well, any true devotee of his work should," he said wryly.

"Your Aunt Dorothy….that's the sort of friend she is to me. The sort of friend Emerson describes in his essays."

"I know she feels the same way about you," he said with a smile.

"Dr. Quinn! Dr. Quinn!" someone called, knocking forcefully on the door. "Dr. Quinn!"

Startled, Michaela hurried to the main room and opened the door.

"Dr. Quinn, thank goodness you're here," Teresa Slicker said, out of breath. She pulled Byron forward by the arm. His face was set in a firm scowl and he was crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

"Mrs. Slicker, what's wrong? Byron?"

"You must take him for the rest of the day," she said, nudging the little boy inside. "If he can start behaving like a civilized child, I'll allow him to return tomorrow morning."

"What on earth happened?" Michaela asked, gently putting her arm around him.

"He pushed little Nathan Porter off the swing and kicked the poor child in the stomach. I witnessed the entire incident from the window."

"Byron Sully!" Michaela exclaimed.

"He was on my swing, Mama," Byron said weakly.

"Your swing? You're supposed to share the swings," Michaela said. "I can't believe this. What were you thinking?"

"I just wanted to swing," he whispered.

"Go inside. Sit at my desk and wait for me there," Michaela said rigidly. She stepped forward. "Mrs. Slicker, I'm so sorry. I don't know what's come over him."

She pressed her hand to her forehead. "¡No puedo más con este niño, ya no sé qué hacer con él!"

Michaela raised her eyebrows and drew her outside, closing the door. "….I received your notes. I've been meaning to talk with you about him in person. But with my husband away I just…I haven't had the time."

"I'm afraid I do not have the time to contend with Byron anymore, and neither do my students. I am trying to teach and the children are trying to learn, and Byron is disrupting us constantly. I'm sorry, Dr. Quinn, but he has pushed me to my limits."

"I'll send him back when he's ready to behave himself."

Teresa nodded. "Thank you."

"Is Nathan all right?" Michaela asked.

"Thankfully, he is fine," Teresa said. "Please understand I'm not giving up. I never give up on a student. But Byron has become a danger to his classmates, and until that danger is passed, I cannot work with him. I am trying to be reasonable."

"No, I understand. You're being very reasonable. Thank you for bringing him here."

"I must get back to the school," she said, stepping down from the porch. "…I hope Byron is able to return to us soon."

Michaela opened the door and slowly walked to her desk. Joshua was leaning on the edge of it, gently patting Byron's back.

"I don't even know what to say to you," Michaela whispered.

Byron glanced up, then quickly returned his eyes to his feet.

Michaela sighed. "Well, you're going to have to sit quietly at my desk for the rest of the afternoon. Mama has a lot of patients to see today and frankly I don't have time for this."

"Go see them," Byron said angrily.

Michaela stepped closer to the desk. "Sweetheart, I don't mean I don't have time for you…I just…when you're at school then that's a good time for Mama to go to work. Then when you're done with your lessons and I'm done with my patients, we can all go home together and spend time together. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Well, when are you going to behave?" Michaela asked.

"I don't know!"

Joshua cleared his throat. "Michaela…you mind if I talk to him? Man to man? I'll take a walk with him. I need a break anyway."

"Well, I-"

Byron slid down from the chair. "Yeah. I'll go with Josh."

Joshua winked at her. "'Sides, it might give Mama a little time to herself to…take a deep breath?"

She smiled softly. "All right. I don't see why not. But come back shortly."

"We will," Joshua said, opening the door. "Come on, son. Let's take a walk."

Byron shoved his hands into his pockets and followed Joshua outside.

Joshua led him a few paces down the street and then boosted him onto a hitching post. "What's goin' on, Byron?"

"I don't know," he muttered.

"Know something? I didn't always like books. I hated school when I was your age. I was the dumbest kid in my class."

"Really? Me, too," Byron murmured.

"That can't be true. You're smart. Your ma told me you were helping your pa build those recovery rooms. Why, she even said ya know how to use a hammer and nails. She's so proud of you."

"Papa lets me help," he admitted. "But I can't touch the saw."

"Even so, I bet most kids your age don't know how to use a hammer and nails. You're a pretty big boy helping out with tools like that."

"Josh, Mama told the teacher I'm not allowed to play a lot at recess 'cause I might get attacks," Byron said downheartedly.

"Attacks?" Joshua questioned.

"I can't breathe," he explained. "I have to have medicine."

"Oh."

"Kids at school never wanna play with me. I always get choosed last at baseball."

"I bet you figure the only way they're gonna pay attention to ya is if ya go picking fights with 'em." Joshua bent to his level. "Know what, I'll let ya in on a little secret. I'm sick, too."

"You get attacks, too?" he asked, eyes brightening.

"Something like that. Byron, right now maybe school ain't so fun, but if you stop picking fights, start treating everybody better, sooner or later they're gonna see you're a nice kid. You'll make some friends eventually."

"They'll even pick me to play baseball with them?" he asked hopefully.

"Maybe. Until then, I'll play with ya. That'd be fun."

"You can use my papa's bat!" he said excitedly. "You're big like him!"

Joshua chuckled, tousling his hair. "All right. I'd like to give it a try. Say, Byron, about me being sick. Let's keep it a secret, all right? Don't tell your ma."

"Why?"

"Well, I bet you don't like telling folks you have trouble breathing, right?"

"No. They fret."

"Right," he said with a soft chuckle. "I don't want anybody fretting over me. Just like you don't like folks fretting over you."

"Can we play baseball today, Joshua?" he asked.

Joshua lifted him down from the hitching post. "Let's go to the meadow and play baseball right now. Striker to the line!"

"Karl Marx, now there's a man who has it all figured out," Joshua said enthusiastically, his fork poised over his pie.

"Karl Marx?" Dorothy asked quietly.

"Yeah. Haven't ya heard of him, Aunt Dorothy? He's all over Europe."

Michaela dished up slices of pie for the children and then put the last slice on her plate. "'The Communist Manifesto,' Dorothy."

"…Oh," she replied, clearing her throat. "That."

Joshua dug into his pie and took a large bite. "Look, all he's sayin' is that progressive taxes make a lot more sense than this flat tax thing we have."

"My father wasn't very fond of that aspect of his philosophy," Michaela said, picking up her coffee cup.

"But it makes the most sense," Joshua said. "People who make a lotta money, paying twenty or thirty dollars in taxes is nothing. But what about people here out West? Look at your ranch hands or your farmers. Look at most people in this town. Tax them thirty dollars and they're out of the business."

"Implementing a progressive tax sounds complicated," Michaela said as she sipped her coffee.

"Sure, it's complicated, but it's fair. And shouldn't our government be fair? Or at least try to be. Mark my words, people are gonna abandon regressive taxes someday." He glanced at Katie and Byron. They were struggling mightily to sit straight and stay awake. "You two look…fascinated."

"This is boring," Byron replied.

"Byron, Joshua is our guest," Michaela scolded.

Joshua chuckled. "It's all right. Nothin' like this interested me when I was a kid. Say, would you like to hear a joke?"

Katie brightened. "Yeah!"

"Let's see if you can figure out this one. Why was the broom late to school?"

Byron tapped his chin. "Hmm. I don't know."

Joshua smiled mischievously. "Because it over swept!"

Byron and Katie giggled uncontrollably, clutching their stomachs.

"Josh, tell another one! Tell another one!" Byron said enthusiastically.

Joshua put his napkin on the table. "Let's see. Here's a good one. Why did the cowboy die with his boots on?"

Katie thought hard. "I don't know."

"Cause he didn't want to stub his toe when he kicked the bucket!"

Katie burst into another fit of giggles while Byron wrinkled his brow and fell silent.

"I don't get it," Byron said with frustration.

Michaela patted his hand. "It's an expression, sweetheart. Kick the bucket means to die."

"Oh," he replied, covering his mouth and laughing. "Tell another one, Josh."

"Tell another one," Katie added.

"That's enough jokes for tonight," Michaela said, standing and stacking Katie and Byron's plates together. "Time for bed. I'll tuck you in shortly. Say goodnight to Joshua and Auntie Dorothy."

Katie and Byron hugged Dorothy, then walked to Joshua and hugged him just as tightly.

Surprised, Joshua tousled their hair. "Goodnight."

Byron looked up at him. "Joshua, can you sleep over sometime?"

He laughed. "I can't leave my books alone for that long! I'll see ya tomorrow, all right? And I'll have a new joke for ya."

Byron grinned. "All right. Night."

Joshua watched them race upstairs. "They sure are sweet kids, Michaela."

"Yes they are," Dorothy said in agreement.

"When Byron knows to keep quiet, yes," Michaela said with a grin, sitting back down.

Joshua finished off his coffee. "No, I like his honestly. Too many people in this world have lost that by the time they're grown."

"He is honest," Michaela admitted. "I've always tried to teach him how important that is."

"It's nice ya let 'em say their peace at the supper table," Joshua added. "I think they have important things to share, too."

"I don't believe children should be forced to eat in silence. That's my father in me," she explained. "He always encouraged my sisters and me to join the conversation at dinner. The seven of us would have spirited debates." She grinned whimsically. "He used to say we gave him indigestion."

He chuckled. "I can just picture all of ya at the table. Gosh, I always used to think I wanted a big family someday."

"You need to get your nose out of those books and go out and find a nice young woman," Dorothy said as she finished her pie.

"If I could find a girl that appreciates the things Michaela does, I'd be set."

"You don't want to marry someone like me," Michaela replied wryly. "Just ask my husband."

"When are Sully and Brian coming back anyway, Michaela?" Dorothy spoke up. "Tomorrow, wasn't it?"

"No, the day after," she replied with a sigh. "I can't wait much longer."

"The problem is nobody likes the same things I do," Joshua said, leaning back in his chair. "I give up on women."

"We best get back to town. We've imposed long enough, Joshua," Dorothy said, rising and putting her shawl over her shoulders. "Michaela, supper was wonderful. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you could come," Michaela replied.

"Aunt Dorothy, can ya wait for me in the buggy?" Joshua said, standing up. "I gotta ask Michaela something."

Dorothy eyed him skeptically, then reluctantly walked to the door. "All right. I'll be outside."

"What did you want to ask me?" Michaela said curiously as she piled everyone's silverware onto a plate.

"You ever heard of Samuel Clemens?"

"Mark Twain you mean. Of course."

"I don't suppose you'd like to hear him speak sometime," he went on.

Her eyes widened. "Really? He's coming to Colorado? Oh, I would love that!"

He dug into his pocket and held up a pair of tickets. "Want to go with me? He's gonna be in Denver next week."

"Would I?!" She hesitated. "But shouldn't you take your Aunt Dorothy?"

He paused, tucking the tickets back in his pocket. "I guess I didn't think she'd be interested."

"I don't know why she wouldn't."

He shrugged, walking to the door and opening it. "Well, I can get her a ticket, too. The three of us will go."

"Mark Twain! To think we're going to actually hear him speak!" She burst into a thrilled smile and hugged him. "Oh, Joshua. Thank you! This is so wonderful."

He laughed, grasping her shoulders and giving her cheek a big kiss. "We'll pick ya up next week." He padded down the stairs and climbed into the buggy beside Dorothy, waving at Michaela and giving the reins a flick.

"Sure is a nice night," he remarked, leaning back in the seat.

Dorothy looped her hands around his arm. "What was that kiss all about, Joshua?"

"What kiss? What, you mean on the cheek? That's nothin'!"

She glanced at him. "I don't think it's appropriate."

"I kiss all the women I love," he said, leaning toward her and giving her cheek a loud smack.

She giggled. "Oh, Joshua. You and Michaela have so much in common. I really do wish you could find someone like her."

"I got all I want just with you, Aunt Dorothy," he said, putting his arm around her. "What would you think about me staying on here? Maybe even permanent."

Her mouth dropped open. "Oh, Joshua. You really mean that?"

"Sure do. There's a lot more books I've yet to talk about with Michaela. I can't leave next week."

She swallowed and fell silent.

"Why didn't you warn me she's read Smith and Marx and Locke?" he went on. "You shoulda known I'd never be able to stop talking with somebody like her."

"Sully's coming home in a few days. Believe me, she's going to be busy spending time with him. She won't have time for a boy."

"What's wrong with you? Why ya in such a bad mood?" he asked.

"I'm not in a bad mood. I just…I don't want you to be hurt."

"Now why would I be hurt? Would a trip to Denver cheer ya up? To hear Samuel Clemens speak?"

"Samuel Clemens?" she repeated with confusion. "Who's that?"

"You musta read him at some point, Aunt Dorothy. You're a journalist like him. Heard of Mark Twain? You know, 'Tom Sawyer'?"

"Oh. Oh! Tom Sawyer!" she exclaimed. "Yes, I've heard of him."

"Would you like to go?"

She smiled. "Anything you want to do, Joshua, I'd love to do, too."

"I'll make a sign. Twenty-five cents each," Michaela said.

"Twenty-five cents!" Faye replied, rubbing Danielle's back as the baby dozed over her shoulder. "You think folks'd pay that much for my preserves?"

"No, I think they'd pay double that," she replied with a smile.

"Land sakes," Faye replied.

Joshua slowly opened the door. "Afternoon," he murmured.

Michaela walked to the door and opened it wider. "Joshua, I'm glad you're here. I just bought some paint at the mercantile for the new recovery rooms."

He removed his hat, squinting. "You mind if I don't work on those today?

"Of course not. They can wait. Is somethin' wrong?"

He rubbed the back of his neck as a trickle of sweat slid down his temple. "Uh, Aunt Dorothy says she needs some help over at the Gazette. I gotta go. I'll see ya later." He put his hat back on and tipped it at Faye. "Ma'am."

"Bye," Faye said quietly, giving Danielle's head a gentle kiss.

"See you later," Michaela said.

"I think he looked a little peaked, Dr. Mike," Faye remarked.

Michaela closed the door. "Yes, well he's probably just tired. He's been working so hard on the recovery rooms here."

Jack whimpered from his bassinette and seconds later cried heartily. Michaela walked to him and lifted him out, patting his back soothingly. "Did you have a good nap, sweetheart?"

Jack wrapped his arms tightly around her neck, his tears ceased and he burst into a toothless grin.

"Oh, he's so sweet," Faye remarked. "I really hope our next one's a boy. I got a strong feelin' he is. Kirk's gonna be beside himself if I give him another girl."

Michaela tickled Jack's cheek and the baby giggled and buried his face against her shoulder. "A mother's instinct is often correct."

"I hope so this time!" Faye replied, glancing at Danielle and stroking her wispy auburn hair. "Dr. Mike, should I start her on solid foods soon? When did you start Jack?"

"Oh, I think he was about four months old. You could try mashing up some vegetables or fruit and see how Danielle does with that."

"I think she's ready. Lately she's been actin' fussy after I feed her, like she ain't full."

"You know best," Michaela said reassuringly.

"Oh no, I don't trust myself one bit," she replied with a grin. "That's why I'm glad I got you to talk to."

"Michaela!" Dorothy called, opening the door with a cheerful smile.

"Dorothy, come in," Michaela replied.

"I'm not interruptin' anything am I?"

"No, Faye and I were just displaying some of her preserves," she replied.

"Oh, don't those look delicious!" she exclaimed, walking to the desk and picking up a jar of peaches.

"Really?" Faye said shyly.

"I'll bring my basket by later. I think I'd like to buy one of each kind."

Faye brightened. "One of each?!"

Michaela patted her back encouragingly. "You see? I told you."

"Now, can I have my nephew back for a few minutes?" Dorothy went on. "I made him some of my special corn pudding for lunch and it's going to go cold if he doesn't stop workin' here and eat."

"Joshua's not here. He said he was helping you at the Gazette today," Michaela said with raised eyebrows.

"He just left for your place," Faye added.

"Ain't that just like him, wantin' to help out everybody. First he's lendin' a hand at the mercantile, and then he tells me he's helpin' build your recovery rooms and now he wants to work at the Gazette, too. He's going to wear himself out!"

"I think he already has," Michaela replied.

"Well, I better find him," Dorothy replied, stepping forward and giving the baby's head a kiss. "Jack, if you see Joshua, you let him know your Auntie Dorothy's lookin' for him!"

The baby giggled in reply and Michaela smiled. "We'll all let him know, Dorothy. I promise."

"Sure feels good to be back here," Brian whispered as they reached the top.

"It sure does," Sully replied.

Brian grabbed his doorknob and carefully turned it. He paused in the doorway, shooting his father a soft smile. "I had a real good time these past few weeks. Thanks, Pa."

Sully squeezed his shoulder. "I'm glad ya came along, Brian. Get some sleep. I'll see ya in the mornin'."

"Night," he replied, backing up and quietly shutting the door after him.

Sully slowly turned the knob to the master bedroom and stepped inside, shutting the door just as quietly. Michaela stirred ever so slightly in the dim light from the bedside lamp. A thick medical textbook was sprawled across her stomach, her hands resting limply on the worn leather cover.

He crouched down, laid his hand on her shoulder and gave her cheek a gentle kiss.

She opened her eyes, immediately perking up with surprise. "Sully!"

He smiled. "I'm home."

"But you're supposed to arrive on the afternoon train," she said, raising her eyebrows in confusion.

"Brian and me decided we couldn't wait another day," he replied, closing her book and placing it on the night table. "We got a hold of some horses in Denver and rode all evenin'."

"You're home," she said, sitting up and wrapping her arms around him.

"I missed ya so much," he murmured, holding her close and rocking her.

"Oh, I missed you. So did the children. Three weeks is too long," she said a bit tearfully.

He caressed her cheek and gave her a soothing, prolonged kiss.

"Where's Brian?" she asked as they gradually broke apart. "Is he all right?"

He sat on the bed and unlaced his muddy boots, slipping out of them. "He's fine. He's already gone to bed."

"You both must be exhausted," she said, leaning forward and massaging his shoulder with one hand. "And sore from that long ride."

"Nothin' we ain't done before. Ya get our letters and telegrams?"

"Yes. It was wonderful to hear from you so often. But…your letter to me…Sully, your letter was brief."

He shrugged. "I didn't know what to say. I ain't much for letters." He shifted to sit beside her and took hold of her hand. "Sides, I wanted to see ya to tell ya."

"Tell me what?" she asked coyly.

"How much I been achin' to be with ya," he whispered, bringing her hand to his lips. "Everything all right here?"

"Everything's perfect now that you're finally back," she replied lovingly. "Tell me about Washington, the senators. Tell me everything."

"What do ya say we wait until mornin' for all that?" He leaned in once more and kissed her much more ardently while he worked his free hand beneath her nightgown and caressed her thigh.

"Yes…all right," Michaela said weakly, wrapping one hand around his neck and holding him all the closer.

Gradually, he reached his arms over her shoulders and grappled to unfasten the tiny nightgown buttons up her back. "Too many buttons," he said impishly.

"Sully…the baby's awake," she whispered, glancing across the room. "He's standing up in his crib."

"He'll go back to sleep."

Jack pointed at his parents decidedly. "Pa."

"I don't think he's going back to sleep this time," Michaela said with a soft chuckle.

"Pa!" Jack called more urgently.

"Your pa's busy right now," Sully said wryly, dropping his feet to the floor and crossing the room. He lifted the baby out of his crib and held him tight. "Hey, Jack. I been missin' you, too." He carried him back to the bed and sat beside Michaela again, settling the baby in his lap. "Hope you didn't give your ma too much trouble while I was gone."

"No more than usual," Michaela said, grasping the baby's hand and kissing his soft fingers. "He said a new word at breakfast the other day. 'Cup.'"

Jack yawned noisily and dropped his head against Sully's chest.

"Cup, huh?" Sully replied, proudly rubbing the baby's back as he quickly dozed off. "Seems he's just as smart as the rest of 'em."

"And so beautiful," Michaela added, tenderly caressing the baby's head. "Look at his rosy cheeks and all this fair hair. He's just an angel."

"He's growin' up, Michaela," he said more seriously. "I think we've put off movin' him long enough."

"You're right," she said with a sigh. "It's just difficult. I've gotten so used to having him right close by. And…our last baby, Sully."

"Hey, he ain't goin' too far. It's only across the hall."

She smiled. "Not exactly the ends of the earth I suppose. And I do think Byron's going to love sharing his room with him. They already adore each other."

"It'll be fun for 'em," Sully said in agreement.

"Oh, Sully. Byron's done the sweetest thing. He's saved almost fifty cents of his dimes and pennies to buy Jack a birthday present. He wants you to help him pick something out."

"Between that and gettin' ready for the party, looks like your recovery rooms are gonna have to wait a few more days."

"No they won't. I have wonderful news about that. They're almost finished."

He gazed at her incredulously. "How?"

"Joshua's been working on them this week," she explained.

"Who's he?"

"Oh. Joshua Jennings. He's Dorothy's nephew. He's visiting her from Iowa. He's such a kind and polite young man. And so incredibly intelligent. Dorothy just loves him and I have to admit I've taken to him as well."

Sully slowly stood and crossed the room, tucking the baby back in his crib. "I was gonna finish those rooms. It was just takin' longer than I planned."

"I know you would have," she said. "You were almost done before you left for Washington. But Joshua was so eager to help, and the thought of having the rooms ready so soon for my patients…I just couldn't turn him down. Wait until you see them, Sully. He's quite a skilled carpenter. All they need is a coat of paint and they'll be ready."

He strolled back to the bed, drawing in his breath. "I'm sure they're nice."

"….Are you angry?" she asked quietly.

"Course not." He leaned forward and tenderly kissed her. "I'm real glad to be home."

She smiled with relief. "I'm glad, too. I love you so much."

He wrapped his arms around her back and held her tight. "I love you."

"What's that thing?" Byron asked, raising himself to his knees and pointing at one of the postcards.

Brian handed him the postcard so he could have a closer look. "That's the new monument for our first president. You remember who that was, B.?"

"I know. George Washington," Katie spoke up, fork in hand.

Michaela smiled proudly. "Very good, sweetheart!"

"I knew that, too," Byron said weakly.

"But this is just what it’s supposed to look like. It's only half built yet," Brian explained. "Once it’s done folks say it'll be the tallest thing in the whole country."

"If they ever get it done," Sully spoke up as he helped the baby take a sip of milk from his cup. "They been workin' on it since your ma and me were kids."

"Whoa, that's a really long time!" Katie exclaimed.

"Nothing seems to move very fast in Washington," Michaela added, placing the pan back on the stove and sitting beside Sully.

"How come?" Byron questioned.

Sully tickled his chest. "'Cause everybody's crooked, there's one reason."

Byron picked up a slice of bacon from his plate. "Can I feed this to Wolf?"

"No," Michaela replied. "Sure," Sully said at the same time.

Michaela shared a stubborn glance with Sully.

"Please?" Byron said sweetly.

Michaela sighed and reluctantly nodded. "All right. But just one slice, Byron. Thank you for asking."

Byron slid down from his chair and walked to the dog. Wolf was lying down near the table, resting her head on her front paws.

"Look, Wolf. Mama made bacon," Byron said, pressing the crispy piece of meat to the dog's snout. Wolf whimpered and ignored the treat. "Eat. Come on, it's good. Wolf, eat it."

"The whole city's changed so much since we were last there," Brian spoke up. "It didn't hardly seem like the same place."

"Speaking of changes," Michaela said tentatively. "Your father and I are going to be making some changes here at home that we need to discuss with all of you."

"What kinda changes, Ma?" Brian asked.

"Wolf, eat the bacon," Byron said persistently, waving it in the dog's face.

"Byron, don't force her," Michaela said. "Sit back at the table with us."

Byron reclaimed his seat next to Katie and rested his chin on his hands. "Changes?"

Sully lifted the baby out of his highchair and sat him in his lap. "To start, what with Jack's birthday comin' up, we thought now's a good time we move his crib and all his things into one of the bedrooms."

"But we don't have any extra bedrooms," Brian said. "Are we gonna add onto the homestead, Pa?"

"Maybe someday. For now we're gonna move Jack in with you, Byron. You and him'll share your room."

"My room!" Byron exclaimed. "But I don't want Jack in my room, Papa." He pointed at Katie desperately. "He can go in her room."

"No he can't. Jack's a boy," Katie protested. "He has to share with another boy."

"Brian's a boy. What about his room?" Byron suggested.

Brian raised his eyebrows with a chuckle. "I don't think so."

"It'll be fun, sweetheart," Michaela spoke up weakly, patting Byron's back. "It's not as terrible as you think."

"Sure, it'll be great, B.," Brian said helpfully. "Matthew and me used to share a room and that was fun. Sort of."

"He's gonna cry loud and wake me," Byron said, resting his elbows on the table with a sigh. "And he'll get into my toys and mess 'em all up."

"I'll build ya some shelves," Sully said. "We can store your things up high so the baby can't reach 'em. I got some lumber scraps in the barn. We can start this afternoon."

"That's a good idea. I'll help," Brian said. "We'll have 'em built in no time."

"I guess," Byron murmured, tears threatening.

"It'll be all right, B." Brian said, standing up and patting his back. "I gotta get goin'. See everybody later." He crossed the room and grabbed his jacket off the hook.

"Brian, wait. Going where?" Michaela called.

He spun back around and quickly buttoned up his jacket. "I'm gonna ride out to see Sarah. I mean…would it be all right if I ride out to her place?"

"But you haven't finished telling us about your trip," she protested.

"He'll be back by lunchtime," Sully said helpfully.

Michaela reluctantly nodded. "All right, as long as you're back by noon. Brian?"

"Yeah?"

She slowly smiled. "Invite Sarah here for supper."

He returned the smile and opened the door. "Thanks, Ma. I will."

Sully turned his attention back to Byron and rubbed his back encouragingly. "Growin' up ain't all bad. Maybe ya have to share a room, but it also means pretty soon you're gonna be old enough to do things like goin' to see friends on your own, like Brian's doin'."

"But he's going to see a girl," Byron said dejectedly. "I don't want to go see any girls."

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Michaela said quietly. "I thought you would be happy about this. I thought you liked being the big brother."

"I don't like it anymore. And I don't like Jack," he replied, glancing at the baby and sliding down from his chair. He turned and hurried to the stairs, rushing up them.

"Byron!" Michaela called.

"Let's let him go," Sully said, gently squeezing her hand. "He just needs some time to get used to this."

"Perhaps we are rushing things a little. Perhaps we should put this off a few more months."

"Michaela, we've already been over this," he replied. "We both agreed the baby's gettin' too old to sleep in our room much longer. Byron's gonna have to learn that he can't always have his way. We're a family and we all gotta work together. Sometimes that means sharin'."

"Talk to him, Sully. Please? I feel so terrible he's upset."

"He wants to talk, he'll come to us," he said. "For now let's give him some space to work through this on his own."

"I guess," Byron muttered, walking to his bed and sitting beside Wolf.

Sully pulled the pencil from his lips and marked the measurement. "How's school been goin' while I been gone?"

"Recess is good," he said brightly. "I'm gettin' better at baseball."

Sully selected another board from a small pile and measured twenty inches. "Your ma told me about throwin' paint. And pushin' that boy off the swing."

Byron patted Wolf's head, not answering.

"Listen, if ya don't like your classmates ya gotta talk to them about it," Sully said. "Work things out."

Byron slid down from his bed and grabbed his baseball from the night table. "Papa, Joshua taught me to be a hurler. We practice in the meadow."

Sully slowly rose to his feet. "Joshua's been teachin' ya baseball?"

Byron wound his arm fiercely. "Yep. Watch this."

Sully hurried to him and grabbed his arm. "Not in the house," he said with a chuckle, taking the baseball from him. "The windows!"

Byron giggled. "I forgot. Oh, Joshua told me a joke, Papa. Wanna hear it?"

Sully smoothed his hair. "Jokes, too, huh?"

"Yep. Um, why was the broom…wait, why did the broom over swept?" His face suddenly fell. "Oh, no! I told ya the answer!"

Sully smiled and put his arm around him. "That's all right. That's still a good joke."

"He told me another one but now I can't remember it," Byron explained.

"Is Joshua gonna help ya with baseball tomorrow, too?"

Byron shook his head and hugged Sully tightly. "No. I want you now, Papa. You hit the ball the best."

Sully rubbed his back lovingly. "I missed ya. We'll spend some time together, all right?"

"Does Jack have to come?"

"No, just me and you this time," Sully assured him, picking up the boards. "Now what about your shelves? We gotta get started. Let's go out to the barn and saw 'em."

"You mean I can help saw 'em?!" Byron cried.

"Yep. Come on, I'll teach ya."

Robert E. stopped hammering and took off his glove, shaking Sully's hand vigorously. "Welcome back. How was Washington?"

"It ain't Colorado," he replied. "Could I bring the team by this week for a shoein'?"

He began hammering again. "Sure thing. Bring 'em by any time."

Sully leaned against the fence and awkwardly scratched his cheek. "Ya got any extra work around here?"

Robert E. slowly glanced up. "Still haven't found anythin' permanent? Look, somethin's gonna turn up, Sully."

"Folks been sayin' that for years. Robert E., you shoulda seen those politicians in Washington. Their faces were tired, they'd lost hope. They can't do anything to help."

"Lord helps those who help themselves. I ain't countin' on anybody in Washington to get the country out of this. The answer won't come from them."

"Guess you're right."

"Meantime, I got a wagon full of feed to unload and no time to take care of it," he said, gesturing at his buckboard out front. "What do ya say ya do that for me this mornin'?"

Sully pulled his gloves from his coat pocket and put them on. "I'll have the job done in no time."

Robert E. resumed hammering. "I went to see Dr. Mike's new recovery rooms the other day. That Jennings fella finished them up nice. Got a lot of skill."

Sully walked to the wagon and hoisted off a bag of feed. "Haven't had a chance to look myself."

He dipped the horseshoe into a bucket of water and it sizzled and steamed. "He's sure been spendin' a lot of time with your wife while you been gone. Don't that bother you?"

Sully dropped the sack of feed beside the corral. "Nope."

"Sully, folks been talkin' the past week," he explained gently. "And they're startin' to talk louder."

"Michaela can do what she wants durin' the day. I ain't got reason to stop her. Long as I have her to myself the rest of the time."

Robert E. laughed deeply. "I reckon I feel the same about Grace."

"If I can't leave and trust her for three weeks, what kinda marriage do we got?"

"Of course ya trust her. I'm just talkin' about that boy. I think he might be gettin' the wrong idea about things. Dr. Mike don't seem to understand a little goes a long way."

Sully lifted another sack. "Folks in this town are always findin' somethin' to gossip about. Since when do you care what they been sayin', Robert E.?"

"I guess I don't," he replied, picking up another horseshoe with his tongs and sticking it in the blistering fire.

"Good. 'Cause all I know is everything's fine at home. Michaela let me know she missed me."

Robert E. eyed him with amusement. "Is that so?"

Sully dropped another sack on the pile. "Stop smirkin' and get back to work."

"Well?" Michaela asked proudly, glancing around the room.

He turned. "He did a nice job."

She smiled and grasped his hands. "You did a nice job, too. You did most of it. Thank you. It's such a wonderful gift."

"You needed the rooms. I've been wantin' to build these for awhile."

"Oh, I almost forgot to show you." She walked to her desk and opened a hat box, pulling from the tissue paper a velvet pink hat topped with a few opulent white feathers. "This just came in to Loren's store from St. Louis. What do you think?"

"You bought another hat?" he questioned. "You got plenty of hats, don't ya?"

"I needed something new. Joshua and Dorothy and I are going to Denver next week."

"What for?"

She put on the hat, pinning it in place. "You won't believe this. Mark Twain is going to speak! How does this look?"

"Mark Twain!" he exclaimed.

"I know, isn't it exciting?" She paused. "Oh, Sully…you'd like to go, too."

He looked away. "Nah. I got things to do around here."

She took off the hat and stepped forward. "I won't go. Dorothy wants to spend time with Joshua. Three's a crowd."

He grasped her arm. "No, he invited you. You should go. I want ya to."

"You mean that?" she murmured.

"I do. And the hat looks real pretty. Just don't tell me how much it cost."

She grinned. "Not much, I promise."

"Not much," he muttered wryly. He stroked her arm pensively. "This Joshua Jennings. Robert E. says you and him been spendin' a lot of time together."

"Yes, I suppose. I think he must have read every book my father had in his library. He's amazing. He reminds me of how I imagine Father must have been when he was young." She eyed him skeptically. "Sully…"

"What?"

"Something's on your mind. Tell me."

"Nothin'. Just that Robert E. said the townsfolk been gossipin'."

"Yes, I know what they're saying. But I don't care. We just like the same things. He's my friend, that's all."

"I just hope he knows that." He reached down and picked up a paint bucket. "Should I open this up and start paintin'?"

"You want to get back to work already?" she replied. "Don't you want to spend time with me?"

He eyed her mischievously. "Maybe. What do ya have in mind?"

"Anything. I just want us to be together."

"What about your patients?"

"I penciled in your name for the afternoon. You have me booked. You're the only patient I'll be examining today."

He raised his eyebrows. "Want to…want to go home? Do the examinin' there?"

"I'd love to make a house call." She stepped forward and kissed him sensuously, rendering him out of breath. "There. Does that leave any doubt in your mind? I only want to be with you now, Sully."

He hugged her warmly. "No doubts here."

"Good," she whispered lovingly.

"Not that one, Katie," Michaela said, glancing in the basket as she reached for an ear of corn. "It's bruised."

Katie fished out the bruised apple obediently as Jack squirmed in Michaela's arms and began to cry.

"I know, sweetheart. We're almost done," Michaela said, briefly rubbing his back.

"Mama, can I get this?" Byron called, walking out of the store with a tin of mints and holding it up. He reached for her drawstring purse in the basket. "Can I have some money to get this?"

Michaela sighed. "No, we can't get that, Byron. Put it back. You're supposed to be asking Mr. Bray to bring out a sack of sugar."

"I already did," he said, turning to go back inside.

Loren stepped onto the porch, carrying the sack. "Sorry it took so long, Dr. Mike. I had to go up to the stockroom."

"Thank you, Loren," she replied. "Could you put it in the wagon please?"

Joshua jogged up to Loren and took the sack from him. "I got this."

"Oh, Joshua. Good afternoon," Michaela said cheerfully. "What are you doing here?"

He placed the sack in the back of the wagon. "I was at the Gazette, knee-deep in Machiavelli's 'The Prince.' Aunt Dorothy told me to go outside and see the sun for change. What are you up to with all those apples?"

She grabbed another ear of corn and set it in the basket. "Just doing a little last-minute shopping for Jack's birthday party. Well, a lot of last-minute shopping!"

"We're going to bob for apples, Joshua," Katie spoke up. "It's gonna be fun."

He squeezed one of her braids. "Sounds like it."

Loren chuckled at the baby. "You expect Jack to bob for apples, Dr. Mike? What's he got in that mouth of his, one tooth?"

"Four." Michaela rubbed the baby's back. "It's for Katie and Byron and their friends of course. Sully and I thought we'd have some games for them. We want them to enjoy the party, too. You'll come tomorrow, won't you, Loren?"

"Well, I guess so," he replied. "But I'm not bobbing for apples."

Joshua winked at Michaela. "Say, Loren, how are your preserves selling, now that ya have some competition?"

Loren frowned. "As a matter of fact they're sellin' like hotcakes."

Byron appeared in the doorway again. "Mama, Mr. Bray got a new top. Look!" He squatted down and tried to spin the colorful top on the porch boards.

"Oh, that's a nice one, sweetheart."

"Can I get it?" he asked, glancing up and giving the top another spin.

Michaela eyed him sternly. "Byron, we're here to shop for the party. No toys and no candy. If you keep asking me to buy you something you're going to have to wait in the wagon." She glanced at the baby, who was growing increasing upset. "Oh, Jack. What's the matter?"

"All right. Sorry," Byron muttered, picking up the top and traipsing back into the store.

Suddenly, Wolf broke away from Katie and trotted inside.

"Oh, no! Wolf, come back!" Katie cried.

"Katie, you're supposed to hold onto her leash!" Michaela said.

"I forgot," she said meekly.

"Katie! I can't have dogs in my store!" Loren exclaimed, hurrying inside.

"Go help Mr. Bray bring her back outside," Michaela instructed, closing her eyes with exasperation.

The baby immediately stopped whimpering and burst into giggles as he watched Katie chase after the dog.

Joshua laughed and leaned against one of the posts. "I didn't know going shopping could be such a production." He held out his arms. "Let me hold the baby for ya. You look like you need all your hands right now."

"Oh, thank you," she said gratefully, handing Jack to him and adjusting the baby's knit cap.

"A year old, huh?" Joshua said, patting Jack's back. "Your ma's sure going to a lot of trouble for ya, cowboy."

She smiled and caressed Jack's head. "I want it to be special."

"I'm all set, Ma," Brian said as he stepped down from the barber shop and walked the length of the store porch.

Michaela turned. "Oh, your haircut looks very nice, Brian."

He placed his hat back on his head. "Thanks. I been wantin' to get it cut before the social." He stepped down and turned.

"Wait, where are you going?" Michaela asked.

He swung back around. "I was gonna study with Sarah this afternoon. Didn't I tell ya?"

Michaela thought a moment. "Oh. I suppose you did. I must have forgotten."

He hesitated. "Can I go, Ma? I told her four o'clock."

She glanced down the street. "But we still have to pick up some tables from Grace's for the party. I need you to help Robert E. lift them into the wagon."

Joshua stepped forward. "I'll help with that. Don't worry about it."

Brian smiled. "Thanks, Joshua. See ya later."

"Brian, be home in time for supper," she called as he hurried down the street.

He waved. "Sure thing."

"Studying, huh? I don't believe that for a second," Joshua remarked.

Michaela eyed him uncertainly. "Why do you say that?"

"Where's his books?" he replied with a grin.

"I hope they're doing at least some studying," she replied, picking up her basket and adding a few tomatoes.

"Well, they're gonna ace kissing class, that's for sure," he replied wryly, handing her back the baby. "Bring your wagon over to the cafe. Let's get those tables."

Robert E. glanced across the cafe at Grace. She was engaged in a lively conversation with Michaela and pinching the baby's cheek, a pot of coffee in her free hand. "I'll be sure to tell her that," he replied as he pulled on his gloves. "Word is you're thinkin' of movin' here. You gonna try an' get work somewhere?"

He climbed into the back of the wagon and squatted down. "I don't know. I used to think I'd be a professor someday. But…not anymore."

"Why not?"

Joshua paused. "Things aren't going the way I planned."

Robert E. flipped one of the picnic tables upside down with ease and hoisted it onto the wagon. "I saw the clinic's new rooms. Ya got talent."

"No, I just finished up what Sully started," Joshua said, sliding the table to the back of the wagon. "He's the talented one."

"Where is he today? I ain't seen him," Robert E. said cautiously.

Joshua shrugged. "I ain't sure. Michaela said something about him looking for work."

"It's nice of ya to help out Dr. Mike like this. You been doin' a lot of work for her."

He smiled. "Being in the company of a mind like Michaela's, now that's something I enjoy. That's not work." He climbed down from the wagon and stuck his hands into his pockets. "'My fires when they dwindle, are lit from her brand. Men see them rekindle, nor guess by whose hand.'"

"What's that?" Robert E. asked quietly.

"Poetry. Henrik Ibsen. He's Norwegian. I read him when I was in Europe. It means Michaela's got what I've been needing." He tapped his finger to his temple. "She excites my mind."

Robert E. grabbed his arm. "See to it that's the only thing she excites, all right, son?"

Joshua glanced at the cafe. Patrons were whispering and watching him, none of them interested in their meals. He took a step back. "Sure, Robert E."

Robert E. patted his back. "Thanks for the hand."

"Open this present now, Jack," Katie said, lifting a large, brown-paper wrapped package off the table and carrying it to her little brother.

Jack was sitting on Grace's lap, giggling and delighting in all the excitement. Everyone was gathered outside in front of the homestead, where Sully and Brian had set up the cafe tables and several chairs and benches. Michaela and Dorothy had decorated the tables and chairs with blue and yellow ribbon, and Grace had made a chocolate cake with Jack's name inscribed in blue frosting.

Brian, Sarah, and Matthew had organized several games for Katie, Byron, and the dozen or so young children in attendance. Baseball, relay races and a maypole had kept them entertained while the adults socialized and fussed over Jack. The baby reveled in all the attention, and was perfectly happy sitting with Grace and tearing clumsily at the wrapping paper of his presents while his parents looked on proudly.

"Grandma sent you this one, Jack," Michaela spoke up, stooping down to help Grace pull off the paper and open the box. Inside was a lacy white nightshift along with a matching cap and booties. She held them up with a smile. "Oh, look. These are adorable."

Jack glanced at the outfit with only mild interest, then returned his attention to the wrapping paper and pulled on one of the corners.

"Oh, just look at all that fine stitchin’," Dorothy remarked.

"Sure is nice," Faye said, standing beside Kirk and looking on with a smile.

"It's so fancy," Sarah added from her seat beside Brian.

"Clothes!" Byron spoke up with dismay. "Didn't Gran’ma send him any toys?"

"Not this time, B.," Brian said.

Sully boosted Byron onto his knee and patted his chest. "Jack's growin' real fast. New clothes are just what he needs right now."

"I guess so," Byron said grudgingly. "Can we eat Jack's cake now?"

Michaela chuckled and placed the lacy outfit back in the box. "I suppose now's the perfect time for cake, Byron."

"Oh, no. I left the plates and forks inside," Grace said, picking up a candle and sticking it into the center of the cake as the baby sucked on his fingers and looked on curiously.

"I'll get 'em, Grace," Sully said, standing up and heading toward the porch. He ascended the stairs and opened the front door, immediately pausing upon seeing Joshua seated at the table. The young man was hunched overly slightly, brow fixed as he gently rubbed the fingers of his left hand with his right.

"Joshua?" Sully murmured, walking to the table. "What're ya doin' inside?"

Joshua looked up, forcing a small smile. "Just, uh…taking a little rest."

"We're about to cut Jack's cake," Sully said, walking into the kitchen and picking up the stack of cake plates on the counter.

"Sure. I'll be out in a minute," Joshua replied.

"Somethin's wrong with your hands," Sully said knowingly, returning to the table and picking up the pile of forks.

Joshua shrugged. "Nah, they're all right."

"They look like they're hurtin' ya."

Joshua shrugged. "Well, if truth be told, I got rheumatism. In my knees, too. I was doing better with it, even thought maybe it was gone for good. At least until today."

"You're too young for rheumatism, ain't ya?"

Joshua shrugged again. "Doc back East said it ain't unheard of for somebody my age to come down with it."

"Michaela should take a look. She could give ya somethin' for it. I'll bring her inside."

"Don't interrupt the party," he protested, rising to his feet and reaching inside his vest for a small silver flask. He winked and then took a swift drink. "This stuff usually does the trick. I'll be fine in no time. Go on back to the birthday. I'll join ya in a minute."

"Listen, ya let us know if we can do anything," Sully said. "Me and Michaela would be happy to help with whatever ya need."

"I appreciate that, but I reckon there's not much anybody can do."

Sully watched him for a moment, then opened the door and rejoined the bustling party. "Got the plates and forks," he said, setting them on the table.

Michaela struck a match and lighted the candle. "Thank you. I just hope we have enough cake for everyone."

Jack studied his cake intently, then boldly thrust his hands into the rich chocolate frosting amid laughter and chuckles from the guests.

"Wait, sweetheart. Not yet!" Michaela exclaimed. "You haven't even blown out your candle!"

"Jack, you're doing your birthday all wrong," Byron spoke up impatiently. "Ya have to make a wish first."

Jack pressed his hands to his mouth and tasted the frosting experimentally, immediately bursting into a pleased grin. He screamed with delight, encouraged by everyone's reactions.

"I think Jack's got the right idea," Sully spoke up, picking up a napkin and helping Michaela wipe the sticky frosting from Jack's hands and face.

Michaela chuckled. "I think he does, too. Let's eat!"

"He had a busy day," Sully replied absently.

"A year old, Sully. I can't believe it."

He nodded, not replying.

She grinned. “He was so sweet with cake all over his hands and face.”

He nodded again.

"I think everyone had a good time at his party, don't you?" she said, slipping out of her bathrobe and climbing under the covers beside him.

"Most everybody."

She turned on her side and studied him carefully. "Sully, what's wrong? Didn't you enjoy it?"

"Sure. It's Joshua I'm thinkin' of."

"Joshua?" she repeated. "What's wrong with Joshua?"

"Michaela, how old ya reckon he is?"

"I don't know. Twenty-two. Twenty-three perhaps?"

"Ya ever seen somebody that age with rheumatism?"

She blinked. "Well, no. Why?"

"This afternoon I found him alone inside, sittin' at the table. He told me he's got rheumatism in his hands and knees. He looked like he was in a lotta pain."

"He's never mentioned that to me. He's never acted like he was in pain."

"I don't think he's mentioned it to much anybody. I ain't sure if Dorothy even knows."

Michaela thought a moment. "I suppose rheumatism's possible. But unlikely. I'd want to look at him myself first."

"I got a feelin' he's in more pain than he's lettin' on. Somethin' about the way he was actin' today, it reminded me of myself…when I get those headaches."

"Oh, Sully," she murmured, leaning over him and giving him a reassuring kiss.

"Michaela, you're a good doctor. I know ya can help him. Just like ya helped me."

"I can try," she whispered, snuggling against his chest and taking hold of his hand.

Joshua knocked on the clinic door and opened it. "Michaela?"

"Down here," she replied, standing up from behind her examination table with a sudsy scrub brush, her hair pulled back with a kerchief.

"Are ya busy?"

"Not really. The baby's sleeping upstairs so I thought I'd start a little spring cleaning."

He walked to the examination table and rested his arm on it. "I brought ya somethin'," he said with a grin, holding up a leather-bound volume. "Thought ya might want to borrow it."

Michaela took the book from him eagerly. "Emerson. ‘Essays, Second Series.' I don't have this one."

"Take your time with it," he replied.

"Thank you, Joshua. I'll guard it with my life," she said, laying it carefully in the center of her desk. She squatted back down, dipped her brush into the bucket of suds and continued to scrub the floorboards. "Oh, did you have a nice time at Jack's party? I'm glad you and Dorothy could come."

He cleared his throat. "Well, thanks for inviting me."

"Are your hands still hurting?"

He started. "What? Oh, that. No, no, that's nothing."

She stood up again, eyeing him skeptically. "Joshua, would you mind helping me take the medicines out of my cabinet? I want to clean inside there as well."

He hesitated. "Well, all right. For a few minutes. But I gotta get going soon. Got some, uh, things to do."

She led him to the cabinet. "Could you take down those bottles up high? I would need a stool to reach."

He sighed and slowly reached up, wrapping his fingers around a small bottle of powdered ginger root and just as carefully bringing it down to his level. Wrinkling his brow, he reached up again and took hold of a bottle of digitalis. He lost his grip as he removed it from the shelf and it went crashing to the floor, shattering and spilling the white power.

"Damnit," he murmured. "I'm sorry, Michaela. I'll pay for that. Look, I really need to go."

"Joshua, your hands are hurting you," she said resolutely. "Sully was right."

"I'm just having a bad day is all," he replied weakly. "They're too stiff to hold onto anything."

"May I see? Please?" she asked, wiping her damp hands on her apron.

Reluctantly, he held them out. He grimaced as Michaela turned his wrists.

"Your joints are swollen and inflamed. Have you tried celery seed?" She turned to her cabinet and took down a small bottle.

"Celery seed?"

She walked to her stove. "Yes. I'll brew some into a tea for you right now."

"Don't bother," he replied, strolling to the far window and leaning against it.

"Joshua, I know it may sound strange but celery seed has helped dozens of my patients with rheumatism. You should at least give it a try."

"It ain't that. It's just, my hands are the least of my worries."

She put the celery seed back in her cabinet. "Joshua…if there's something you want to talk about you can say it to me. If you need a doctor I'm here."

He sighed, shaking his head. "Part of the reason I came here was to get away from doctors."

She smiled softly. "Well, you haven't been very successful. We see each other every day." She joined him at the window and gently touched his arm. "Is something wrong with you? What is it? Are you sick?"

He slowly nodded. "I'm real sick, Michaela. I musta seen ten different doctors. I guess you make eleven. They either tell me they don't know what to think, or they make up something and then give me a tonic for it that don't do a damned thing."

"…I can't promise I can give you a definitive diagnosis, but I know I can't help you unless you talk to me, tell me about your illness."

He let out a deep sigh. "My best guess so far is that I picked up something when I was traveling in Europe. I don't know where, or when. One day I woke up with a fever, the chills, a rash. I went to the hospital in Frankfurt. They said it was the influenza. I was there about a week, then I was fine. I finished the rest of the trip and a month later I went back home. And for six months I was fine. Never felt better."

"Then what happened? The rheumatism started?" she questioned.

"Well, it wasn't that at first. It was my neck. Every morning I'd wake up and it'd be so stiff I could barely move it. I even bought a new pillow, thinking there was something wrong with the one I had. But that didn't do any good."

Michaela walked to her desk and sat down, dipping her pen in the inkwell. She began writing down Joshua's symptoms as he spoke.

"Then the headaches started," he went on. "Real powerful ones. So bad I couldn't move. I'd lie in bed all day, the curtains drawn. That's when I went and saw my first doctor. In Chicago. He called 'em megrims. Gave me some sort of tonic and sent me on my way." He swallowed. "A few weeks after that, that's when it all started to really get strange."

"What do you mean?" Michaela asked.

"Well, I had all these things wrong with me and not a one of 'em seemed to have anything to do with the other. The rheumatism set in pretty quickly."

"Is that just in your hands or elsewhere?"

"Mostly in my knees, but it comes and goes in my elbows, my fingers, my shoulders, just about everywhere you could think of. Then soon after that, I started getting fevers. Near every couple weeks I was holed up inside with a fever and the chills. Just like a catarrh, only they would happen so often."

"What else?" she encouraged.

"Listen, you ain't gonna tell my Aunt Dorothy about all this, are you?" he said worriedly, turning to face her.

Michaela bit her lip, uncertain how to answer. "I think she'd like to know, don't you? She loves you, Joshua."

"I know that, I just don't want her worrying. You know how she is."

"Well, I won't tell her if you don't want me to. It's important that I maintain confidentiality with my patients. It's a doctor's obligation."

He nodded. "I'll tell her myself, when the time's right. Don't let on to her how sick I am in the meantime. I'm begging ya."

"I won't," she vowed. "As her friend I think she should know, but as your doctor I won't say anything."

"I appreciate that."

"Are the fevers still persisting?" she asked.

"I had one a couple days ago. Kept me up most of the night, but it was pretty much gone by sunrise. That's another thing. I can't sleep at night, fever or not. I'm exhausted all the time."

"What did the other physicians you've seen think it was?"

"Well, the one I was going to in Des Moines, he was sure I was sensitive to something. Milk was his guess. So I stopped drinking milk."

She dipped her pen into the inkwell again. "Did that help?"

"No, not one bit."

She looked over her notes with a furrowed brow. "It does sound like it could be a severe allergy. Perhaps not milk, but something else. They often manifest themselves in a variety of puzzling symptoms. Byron, he seems to be sensitive to hay in the barn, the animals, and especially to dust. But it took me many months before I was sure what was irritating him so much."

"Yeah, he told me he's been sick, too," he murmured.

"He has asthma," she said, voice breaking ever so slightly.

"Well, at least you know what's wrong with him." He took a deep breath. "The worst part of all this is not knowing. The worst part is thinking…maybe I'm gonna have to live the rest of my life like this. It scares me like nothing else, Michaela, thinking about being exhausted for the rest of my life, having headaches like the ones I've been having for the rest of my life, having my knees and hands so swollen with rheumatism I can't move 'em…being in this much pain all the time for the rest of my life."

"I'm going to do everything I can to try to find out what's wrong. And in the meantime, I'll do everything I can to make you more comfortable. We'll help you manage your pain."

"There's something else I ain't told ya yet," he whispered. "Something else that started a couple months back."

"What else?" she encouraged, picking up her pen again.

"There's something wrong with my head, too," he said, voice suddenly breaking. "I'll have these spells where I get so angry I don't know what to do. I haven't told Aunt Dorothy but…one of the reasons I'm visiting her is that I got no place else to go."

She paused. "What do you mean? But your family is in Des Moines. I thought you had a brother and sister, and your father."

He took a deep breath. "My pa said he doesn't want me to come back. Says he doesn't want to see my face again. I had one of my spells. I don't remember much, I don't remember what got me so angry…but when it was all over with I'd torn apart the house, broke every piece of china we owned. Even got a hold of my pa's rifle and started trying to shoot it. At least that's what my sister tells me. Thankfully, it wasn't loaded, and I couldn't find any bullets."

"Oh, Joshua," she murmured.

"I swear I don't know what's happening," he said. "It's like I've lost control of my own mind."

"But your family knows you're sick. Surely they must understand."

"Pa knows. He always said I reminded him of a drunk. Said I probably was one, too. But the drink isn't the problem, Michaela. Although sometimes I wish it were. Then at least I would know how to make myself better."

"When was your last spell?"

"I haven't had one since Pa told me to leave. So a couple of weeks now. That's pretty good for me."

"Good," she murmured, glancing at the notes she had made for a long moment.

"It's all right to say you don't know," he whispered. "I won't hold it against you."

"I'll admit it's very perplexing," she began, sitting back in her chair. "I've never seen or heard about these symptoms in this combination. But that doesn't mean I'm giving up this quickly. I'll go through all of my medical books and journals and see what they have to say. And I can wire some specialists."

"You don't have to go to all that trouble. I just need a little something to get me through my bad days, that's all I'm asking."

"I could help you better if I knew what this is," she said with a small smile. "So I'd like to try, if you'll help me. If you can remember the name of the hospital in Frankfurt, I'd like to wire the doctors there. I'm hoping they still have your case on file." She stood and retrieved her stethoscope from her desk, placing it around her neck. "Did you come into contact with anyone else who was sick while you were there? Or anything unusual at all?"

"Nothing unusual that I remember. We spent most of our days out hunting fox with our dogs. I was with my American classmates most of the time."

"All right. I'd like to examine you. There's a gown behind the screens."

He shook his head vehemently. "No."

"It won't hurt," she said reassuringly. "And you should stay here at the clinic for a few nights so I can monitor you."

"No, I don't want to stay here."

"But it would help me diagnose you better."

"I've had enough of being poked and prodded at. Please, Michaela."

"I know, and that's understandable. But I'll be as quick as I can." She stepped forward and touched his arm. "I'd like to take a blood sample as well."

He shrugged her off impatiently. "I said no. No more doctors, all right?"

"Joshua-"

He walked swiftly to the door and opened it. "I’m not saying it again, Michaela." He shut the door firmly behind him.

Michaela sighed with frustration, slowly removing her stethoscope and putting it back on her desk. Then she walked to her bookshelf, pulled out three thick volumes, and began perusing their contents page by page.

Byron sat on his bed with Wolf and watched silently as Brian dragged in a small chest. Katie followed seconds later, her arms full with a variety of stuffed animals. She placed them on the night table as Brian brushed past her.

"Katie, no, not there! Put them over on his side," Byron exclaimed, pointing at the far corner of the room.

Katie obediently gathered the stuffed animals and arranged them in the corner.

Brian returned with a small sack. "Where should I put Jack's blocks?"

"Hide 'em in the chest," Byron said diffidently.

"How's he gonna play with them if they're in there?" Brian replied. "I better put 'em in the corner with his other toys."

Michaela entered the room with the baby's afghan and placed it on Byron's bed.

"No," Byron said with a sigh. "I don't want his stuff on my bed, Mama."

"Just for a moment," Michaela replied. "Papa's bringing in the crib and then we'll put it in there."

Byron rose to his knees and watched attentively as Sully carried the baby's crib into the room and placed it in the corner beneath the window. "How's this?"

Michaela slid the crib a few inches toward her. "Perfect."

Katie placed Jack's stuffed duck inside the crib and Brian moved aside a pile of Byron's storybooks on the bureau and arranged the A, B, and C blocks in their place.

"There," Brian said. "Now it looks like a baby's room."

Byron slid down from his bed and dropped the afghan in the crib, then returned to the bed and lifted Wolf into his lap.

Sully folded his arms and looked around the room. "Yep, it looks good."

"I'd like to hang a few more pictures, but we can do that later," Michaela said. "Aside from that I think it looks wonderful."

"Wait, where's Jack?" Katie asked.

Michaela's eyes widened. "Jack! He must still be in our bedroom!" She hurried into the hall and entered the master bedroom.

The baby was sitting on the floor, touching his fingers to a knot in the board. He glanced inquisitively at Michaela, then returned his attention to examining the knot.

"Oh, sweetheart! With all the excitement of moving your things into your new room, Mama forgot all about moving you!" She picked him up and gave him a big kiss, then carried him to the bedroom where everyone was waiting. Michaela pointed at the crib. "Look, sweetheart, there's your bed. You're going to sleep here now, Jack."

Jack sucked on his fingers, gazing at the crib.

"Put him in, Ma," Brian suggested. "Have him try it out."

Michaela lowered him into the crib. Jack stood and held onto the bars, letting out a strong whimper as he looked around.

"Hey, don't cry," Sully soothed, caressing the baby's head. "It's the same bed. Just in your new room now."

"Jack, this is my room," Byron spoke up. "You stay on your side over there. Don't come to my side."

"But the door's on your side, B.," Brian said sensibly. "How's he gonna get in and out?"

"I don't know. I guess the window," Byron replied with a shrug.

Brian laughed and tousled his hair. "Don't be silly."

Katie giggled. "The window! Is he gonna fly?"

Byron scowled. "No."

Michaela walked to the bed and gently rubbed Byron's arm. "Remember what we talked about? You're going to share the room with Jack. That means you share the door, too. This room belongs to both of you now."

"Then how come everybody keeps sayin' it's his room?" he replied impatiently.

Sully joined Michaela at the bed. "We didn't mean it that way," he said. "This is still your room, too. We just want ya to share now. We gotta work as a team here."

"Nobody's on my team," he said quietly, sliding down from the bed and clapping his hands. "Come on, Wolf. Let's take a walk."

Wolf raised her head tiredly, then put it back on her paws and closed her eyes.

Byron sighed deeply and returned to the bed, picking her up. "Come on, Wolf. Time for a walk. Stop sleepin' all the time."

Michaela sat on the bed as Byron swiftly exited the room and rushed downstairs. "This isn't going any better, Sully."

"Sometimes it's hard to have a new brother or sister," Brian said, resting one hand on the bedpost. "I wasn't too sure about it when Katie was first born."

"You didn't like me, Brian?" Katie asked sadly.

He grinned. "No, I liked ya. I just didn't know if I liked bein' a big brother. It just took some time."

"How long do you think it's going to take?" Michaela asked. "Jack's already a year old."

"It's Byron's first day sharin' a room," Sully said, stroking Jack's hair. "He needs a chance to get used to it. It'll be fine. They're both gonna do fine."

Michaela sighed. "I hope so."

"Denver-Rio Grande's lookin' for temporary workers to do some repairs," Sully remarked as he leaned against the examination table and read an advertisement in the Gazette.

Michaela looked up from her medical journal, one belonging to a large pile she had pulled off her bookshelves. "Really? Near here?"

"About fifty miles. Canon City." He folded the paper. "It's just temporary. A few months. Good money, too."

She paused, putting her journal down on her crowded desk. "You're not thinking of working for the railroad, are you? But your principles."

"My principles say I got a family to support."

She stood and walked to him. "We're fine for now. We'll make do until something turns up closer to home. Something's going to turn up, Sully. We just have to be patient."

He nodded halfheartedly. "Meantime, maybe I should do some trappin'. I was thinkin' of headin' up North for a couple weeks. Bear Creek. I hear the beaver's been good up there."

She put her arm around his back. "I wish you could stay here. You only just got back from Washington. But I understand."

"I'll head out soon as this wet weather we've been havin' lets up. It may be another few days."

"Sully, I've been thinking. Perhaps I should start opening the clinic on Saturdays and Sundays. I could tend to the travelers who come into town. I'd make a little extra money."

"But the kids don't have school. It's one of the few times we're all together. Ya don't wanna be here in town workin'."

"I didn't say I wanted to. I just want to help our family."

He gave her a soft kiss. "You'll tire yourself out workin' that much, and then ya won't be a help to anybody."

"I suppose," she admitted.

"'Sides, you'll never hear the end of it from the Reverend if ya open this place up on a Sunday."

"You're probably right."

He nodded at her desk. "What're all those books for?"

"I'm just trying to help a patient," she said quietly, walking back to her desk.

"Joshua?"

She nodded. "I suspected perhaps something was wrong but I had no idea. I'm glad you told me about his hands. Apparently he's been sick for months and in terrible pain."

"That's too bad. How's Dorothy takin' it?"

"Oh, just fine, because she doesn't even know," she replied. "Joshua doesn't want to tell her. In fact he didn't even want to tell me. He's tired of seeing doctors and I suppose I can't blame him. He refused to let me examine him. I'm trying to figure out what's wrong with him but that's a lot more difficult when I can't even examine him." She paused as someone knocked on the door.

"Michaela?" a hoarse voice called.

"That sounds like Joshua right now," Sully remarked.

Michaela walked to the door and opened it. Joshua was standing on the porch, holding onto the bench to support himself. Sweat dampened his shirt and hair, and he was pale and shivering.

"Michaela. I n-need help," he said weakly.

"Oh, Joshua. Come inside," Michaela said, taking his arm and leading him to the examination table. "Lie down here. Sully, could you get a blanket?"

Sully opened the cabinet and pulled out a thick gray wool blanket. He walked to the table and covered Joshua snuggly.

Michaela felt Joshua's brow. "You're running a high fever."

"I know, but the pain. I just need something. Some morphine, anything, anything ya got."

"What hurts?" she asked, walking to her cabinet and collecting in a small basin a syringe, some cotton, a bottle of carbolic acid and a bottle of morphine.

He shook his head with frustration. "Everything. All over. Mostly my head though. Please, please do something. Please, hurry."

"I'll be outside if ya need me," Sully said, exiting out the front door.

Michaela filled the syringe with a generous dose of morphine. "I'll give you some of this. Just stay calm."

As if he had done it hundreds of times, Joshua pushed back the blanket, unbuckled his trousers and slid them down to expose his thigh.

Michaela cleaned the area with the carbolic acid and then held the syringe up, tapping it with her fingers. "You'll feel a slight sting, but it should only hurt for a few seconds."

"I don't care. Just give it to me. Hurry up."

Skillfully, she thrust the needle into his thigh, administered the dosage, and quickly pulled the needle out. "There. It's all right, Joshua. You'll feel better soon."

He slowly relaxed, pulling the blanket back up. "No offense, Michaela, but I hate doctors."

"I understand."

"I didn't wanna come see ya," he went on tiredly. "But the fever just wouldn't go away. The pain just kept getting worse. I couldn't take it anymore. I told Aunt Dorothy I was going for a walk. Don't tell her I came here."

She brought over her basin and dampened a cloth, bathing his forehead. "Has this happened before?"

"I get spells like these all the time. I just don't remember it ever lasting this long. Or being this bad."

She unfastened the first few buttons on his shirt and bathed his neck and chest. "I know you're tired of doctors, but I want you to let me examine you. I can help you better."

He glanced at the piles of books and journals on her desk. "What're all those for?"

"For you," she said simply.

"You weren't kidding when ya said you'd try to find out what's wrong," he remarked.

"I'm giving it my best effort. If there's a cure I'm going to try to find it."

"That's the problem with doctors. They're always wanting to cure me."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Michaela, nobody before ya knew what I got, and you don't know either. You're not gonna find it or anything like it in some book. So ya might as well give it up."

"I have to try. It's my responsibility."

"No," he said firmly. "I don't want ya poking and prodding, doing experiments, wasting your time reading medical books. I just need help getting some of my life back."

"I don't understand."

He took a deep breath. "That injection ya gave me. Could you teach me how ya do that? So I can do it myself?"

She glanced at the syringe. "You want to give yourself injections? Joshua, I can't let you!"

"And why not?"

"Well, we just don't do that. It takes practice. It's not as simple as it looks. It can be dangerous. You could overdose and become very sick, you could even….No, just come to the clinic and I'll give you the morphine myself."

He sighed. "That's the point. I don't want to have to do that. I don't want to have to see doctors all the time when all they give me is injections and send me on my way. I want to be more independent. I know you could teach me how to do it right, safe."

She shook her head resolutely. "I'm more than happy to try to help you feel better, but I won't do that. I just can't risk it."

"You're just like the rest of 'em," he said coolly. "I thought you were different. I thought maybe for once somebody cared about me, cared about respecting my wishes."

She squeezed his hand. "I care for you and respect you. But I know if we work together we can fight this."

"I reckon I'm just…just scared," he murmured. "I never felt pain like this before. What if it gets even worse? What if I can't get to you in time?"

She laid the cloth across his brow, swallowing. "You will. Everything's going to be fine. You'll feel better. Shh."

He closed his eyes. "I think I'm just getting worse. And fast."

"….Can't hardly sleep with you so restless," Sully murmured.

"I'm sorry. I'll stop."

He opened his eyes and stretched his arms. "It's all right. What's on your mind?"

"Sully, I think Joshua's right. I don't think I can cure him."

"Ya did all ya could, Michaela."

"Oh, I know that. It's just, where do I go from here?"

"I s'pose all ya can do now is try to help him feel better."

She took a deep breath. "He wants me to teach him how to use a syringe. He wants to give himself his own injections of morphine."

He turned on his side to face her. "You gonna let him do that? Ain't that dangerous?"

"It can be. I immediately told him no."

He reached his hand out and rubbed her arm. "And now you're wondering if ya said the right thing."

"I've just been thinking about something he said. What is medicine really about? Is it about finding cures? And if it is then what do I do when I can't find a cure? Joshua just wants to have a more normal life. He doesn't want to be dependent on doctors. Shouldn't it also be my job to help him feel more normal?"

"Well, can ya teach him how to do it?"

"I don't know. Perhaps. My father taught me how to use a syringe before I even entered medical college. I used to help my classmates when they were learning. Many of them had shaky hands at first, but after some practice they all became quite skilled. I suppose anyone could learn with practice and proper instruction."

He slipped his arm around her back and kissed her head.

She closed her eyes. "I just know if it were me…if I were sick like him, I suppose I wouldn't want to spend all my time in hospitals or at the clinic either. I'd want to be home with you, our family. I'd want to feel normal. And I suppose I too would want a doctor who would support me in achieving that." She shuddered. "But if he were to make a mistake and overdose, I'd feel responsible."

"Give it some time. Maybe it'll become clearer."

"I feel terrible about letting him work on those recovery rooms. He worked so hard. I'm afraid he overexerted himself and that triggered this."

"Ya didn't know he was sick," he replied.

She found his hand beneath the covers and threaded her fingers with his. "He's only twenty-three years old, Sully. And as much as I want to hold out hope, I'm not seeing any signs that this is getting better for him. He may have to live with this for the rest of his life. I can't imagine how devastated he must feel. I just want to make it better for him."

He gave her a reassuring kiss and wrapped his arms around her. "And that's what makes ya a good doctor. Everything else'll fall into place."

Michaela removed her thermometer from Joshua's lips and held it up to the light. "Only one-hundred. That's not too bad. How do you feel?"

"Achy. Like I got a catarrh. Especially my back."

"Do you want some more morphine?"

He sighed. "I guess I might as well."

She retrieved her syringe and a bottle of morphine from the tray and quickly administered the drug into his thigh. "….Joshua, I want you to know I've been thinking about what you said. About doing your own injections. I want you to give me time to think about it."

"I know it ain't something to take lightly," he replied. "You're right. You should think about it."

"In the meantime take off your shirt."

"What for?" he asked.

"I'll rub your back," she said, placing the bottle of morphine back on the tray.

"I gotta admit that sounds good right now," he replied, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt and slipping it over his head.

"Turn on your side," she instructed, sitting on the bed and gently kneading his shoulder muscles. "Joshua, I want you to do something for me. I want you to let me give you a full examination. It would help me treat you better. Help us."

"Well, I suppose I can put up with one more examination."

"Good, we'll do it today. You know, you inspired me to look at Emerson again. I haven't had much time to read since my children were born."

"You gotta make time," he replied.

"I read some of the book you lent me. I read it to the baby while I was feeding him his bottle."

"He like it?"

"I think so."

"Good. He better. Anybody that don't like Emerson ain't a friend of mine."

"How does this feel?" she asked, pressing a little harder on his sore shoulder muscles.

"Real good. Ya got magic hands."

She smiled. "Sully says they're cold."

"I like 'em cold. Speaking of Sully, don't tell him you're lending your hands to another man. I wouldn't want somebody like him after me."

She chuckled. "It'll be our secret."

"Michaela! Joshua!" Dorothy exclaimed, eyebrows raised as she stepped into the room.

Michaela withdrew and Joshua grabbed his shirt and clutched it to his chest.

"Aunt Dorothy. What're you doing here?" he asked, standing up.

"I couldn't find you anywhere. I was going to ask Michaela if she's seen you. Apparently she has!"

Joshua slipped his shirt back on. "I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, Michaela."

"This is where you've been sneaking off to all the time," Dorothy said. "Joshua, do you want to tell me what's going on between you two? And I thought I was imagining it!"

"I'm not sneaking," he retorted. "And nothing's going on. At least not anything you should know about." He walked across the room and shut the door behind him.

Dorothy folded her hands. "I don't think it's normal, Michaela, a boy like him wantin' to spend all his time here. He spends more time with you than with his own aunt! I think you should stop encouraging him."

"He just came to me with a small fever," Michaela said quietly. "Dorothy, it's not what you think."

"If it's not what I think then what is it? What's he doing here all the time?"

Michaela paused. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to ask him that."

"I have!" she replied impatiently. "He won't tell me a thing. He's like a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar."

"If you'll excuse me I have some work to do."

Dorothy grasped her arm, stilling her. "You can have my ticket back for that lecture next week."

"What? Why? But you said you couldn't wait to go."

"You and Joshua go. You don't need me along, too."

"Dorothy, that's not-"

"Just remember what an impressionable young man he is. It's easy for him to get the wrong idea."

Michaela shook her head. "You don't understand this."

"No, I don't understand you, Michaela," she replied, spinning around and hurrying down the stairs.

Loren filled a mug with coffee and handed it to Dorothy. She was sitting beside his stove, brow fixed.

"Dorothy, you need to calm down," he said.

She looked up at him stubbornly. "I can't calm down. Not after what I saw! I was just looking for Joshua, when I walked in on those two-"

"I know, I know," he said, taking a seat in the chair across from her. "You've told me a dozen times. I just think there has to be an explanation."

"I can't believe you don't hold Michaela responsible for stringing Joshua along like she has. I can't believe you're not angry about this."

"Oh, I'm angry at Dr. Mike. Believe me. Just not about this."

Dorothy eyed him with confusion. "What do you have to be angry about?"

"My preserves!" he said, gesturing at one of his shelves. "I ain't sold more than three jars since she and that Faye Davis girl set up shop in the clinic. And I didn't sell any today!"

"Loren, how can you be thinking about preserves at a time like this?" she exclaimed.

"Well, it's not right," he replied firmly. "I had the best preserves in town right here in my store until Dr. Mike had to go wantin' to meddle with things, change things, poke her nose where it don't belong--again." He stood up resolutely, pulling on the ends of his vest. "She's sneaky, that's what she is. Always has been."

Dorothy couldn't help but chuckle. "Oh, Loren. It's just peaches."

"Well, I know Dr. Mike, and she ain't gonna budge on this. Now I guess I got no choice but to go over there and work out some kind of compromise."

"I think you should just take the girl's preserves, Loren," she told him. "You're jealous she's getting all your business."

He chuckled, sitting back down. "Dorothy, you're the one who's jealous. You're jealous of Dr. Mike and Joshua."

She pressed her hand to her heart. "Jealous! Loren!"

"Well, it's true. That's what this is about. Dr. Mike reads the books he reads and now he's at the clinic all the time talkin' to her about all that foolishness." He leaned forward. "Dorothy, look, just tell Dr. Mike you want to spend more time with him. He's your nephew. You got every right. You just gotta explain to her. Women. They expect everybody to read their mind. I don't understand it."

"Loren Bray, you of all people," she said with a sigh. "I can't believe you don't see what I see."

"Dorothy, I don't know what all they're doin' in there any more than you do. And we ain't gonna know unless we ask."

"I did ask. Joshua said nothing and Michaela said go ask Joshua." She stood and picked up her shawl. "I'm tired. I'm goin' home."

"I still say ya should talk to her," he said, walking across the room and opening his door. "That's what I'm gonna do. I gotta get this mess with my preserves straightened out before Dr. Mike goes and opens up a mercantile of her own!"

She smiled softly and stepped onto his porch. "Goodnight, Loren."

"Goodnight!" he said, slamming his door shut.

"Two more just came in, Dr. Mike," Horace said, handing Michaela some slips of paper. "This one's from all the way in Germany somewhere."

Michaela sat the baby on the counter and quickly read the telegrams, face falling.

"Bad news," Horace remarked.

"Yes. Again," she murmured.

Jack picked up a stamp and touched the rubber with his free hand.

Horace flipped through a stack of letters. "You're sure gettin' a lot of telegrams lately, Dr. Mike."

"And I suspect I'll be getting even more," she replied, tucking the telegrams in her coat pocket. "I'm sorry about that, Horace."

He smiled. "That's all right. That's my job. Just wish I could hand ya better news."

"Good day, Horace." Michaela lifted the baby off the counter. "Jack, oh, that's not our stamp. Let's put that back."

Horace took the stamp from the baby with a grin. "Bye, Jack. Dr. Mike."

Michaela carried the baby outside where Byron was waiting on the bench with Wolf. "I'm all set. Time to go."

"Mama, can we stop by the store and buy some candy and look at the toys?" Byron asked, putting his hat on.

"No. Your brother's getting cranky. We need to go home and put him down for a nap and I need to start supper. Besides, we have sweets at home."

"Not anything good," Byron muttered, traipsing to the wagon and climbing in. He clapped his hands. "Come on, Wolf. Get in the wagon."

Wolf ignored him, remaining on the porch of the telegraph office.

"Come here, Wolf," Michaela called. "Come here."

Byron sighed, sinking onto the seat. "Wolf, come on. Get over here."

"Byron, will you go get her, please?" Michaela said impatiently, boosting Jack onto the seat and climbing up after him.

Byron climbed back down and grabbed Wolf's collar. "What's the matter, Wolf? Time to go home. She won't come, Mama."

Michaela grabbed the reins. "Pick her up then. Put her in the back."

Byron squatted down and lifted the little mutt into his arms, carrying her to the wagon and setting her inside.

"I'm not going to let you bring Wolf into town anymore if she doesn't start listening to us," Michaela said, reaching down and giving Byron a hand up beside her. "She's going to have to stay at home."

"Maybe we shouldn't bring Jack to town," Byron replied, crossing his arms and casting a glance at the baby. "He doesn't listen."

"Don't be silly. We can't leave him home alone." Michaela gave the reins a flick, holding them with one hand and putting her other arm around the baby securely. "I'm proud of you for sharing your room with him. I know it hasn't been easy."

"I hate it," he muttered.

"But like Papa said, our family is a team. We all have to do things we don't like."

"What don't you like?" Byron asked curiously.

"Well, I don't like….doing the cooking. But someone has to. We have to eat."

"And we don't want Papa to do it!" he said with a giggle.

"Yes." Michaela smiled and patted his shoulder. "Thank you for helping me with the errands today. It's nice having you for company."

"You have Jack for company," he replied.

"Yes, but Jack doesn't say much. At least not anything I can understand. I like having conversations with someone. Especially you."

"Yeah, at least I talk," he said brightly.

She squeezed his shoulder. "Let's go home."

"Can ya reach it, Kates?" Sully asked as he watched the little girl struggle to stack a plate on the shelf above the counter.

"Almost," she said with determination, raising herself onto her toes.

"Be careful, sweetheart. Don't break it," Michaela said, briefly turning from the sink where she was scrubbing the last few glasses from supper.

Sully put down his towel for drying and walked to the little girl, boosting her into the air. "There ya go."

Katie giggled and stacked the plate. "I'm too little."

"Ya'll reach it before long, you'll see," Sully replied, putting her back on her feet.

Byron rose from his knees beside Wolf's bed near the door, looked at the dog worriedly for a moment, and then walked into the kitchen. "Mama, Wolf didn't eat any of her supper."

"Really? Again?"

"B.'s right. She hasn't touched it," Brian said, putting his book on the table and squatting beside her. He scratched her ears. "Somethin' wrong, girl?"

"I'll take a look at her," Michaela spoke up, handing Sully the last glass to dry.

"I'm sure she's fine," Sully added. "Probably just tired."

Byron hurried to the secretary and brought Michaela her medical bag. "She's sick, Mama. Can you fix her?"

Michaela kneeled beside the dog and pressed the bell of her stethoscope to Wolf's lungs while the children looked on intently. After a long moment, she removed her stethoscope and brought her hands to the dog's abdomen, feeling for any abnormalities as Wolf whimpered in response, swinging her head around to lick the tender area. Finally, Michaela sat back, put her stethoscope in her bag, and looked up at Sully. She gave him the subtlest shake of her head, Sully's cue to remove the children.

"Come on, kids. It's time ya get to bed," he said, lifting Katie to her feet.

"What's wrong with her?" Katie asked hoarsely, sensing something amiss.

"She…she's come down with some sort of catarrh," Michaela said quietly.

"Dogs get catarrhs, too?" Byron asked.

"Sure they do," Brian said. He hadn't missed the glance his parents had shared.

"Give her some of your medicine, Mama," Byron encouraged. "And a bandage. You can fix her."

"Time for bed, sweetheart," Michaela replied, patting his arm. "We'll come up in a few minutes and tuck you in. Go on."

Byron and Katie reluctantly headed for the stairs. Brian stood and lingered back by the fireplace, watching the dog with concern.

Sully waited until he heard two bedroom doors close before he gently reached across and touched Michaela's hand. "How bad is she?"

"I'm not sure," she said quietly. "I feel a large growth in her abdomen."

"A tumor, Ma?" Brian asked quietly.

She packed her stethoscope back in her bag and latched it. "I'm afraid so."

"Come to think of it, she ain't been eatin' like usual for some time," Sully remarked, watching the dog pensively.

"She whimpers all the time," Brian said quietly.

"And she's been sleeping a lot more than usual as well," Michaela added. "I thought she was simply getting older. Who knows how long she's had this."

"You can operate, Ma," Brian said, walking to Wolf's bed. "Take the tumor out."

"No. Given her behavior, I believe it's progressed far too much." She stroked the dog's head sympathetically. "She's in pain, Brian."

"How long ya think she has?" Brian asked.

Sully shook his head. "We need to put her down. The sooner the better."

"Put her down?" Michaela repeated, stroking Wolf's ears. "I could give her some medicine. I would only be guessing at how much to give, but I could try."

"Look at her, Michaela," he said gently. "She's sufferin'. Like you said, ya wouldn't know how much to give. All that would do is draw it out anyway."

"We really have to do this?" Brian whispered. "Isn't there anything…?"

"Sully's right. Medicine would only prolong her pain," Michaela said hoarsely. "I need to put her to sleep."

"I'll dig a place for her, out near the oak tree where she likes to play," Sully said.

Brian took a deep breath, gazing at the whimpering dog for a long moment. "I'll do that."

"No, I got it, son," Sully said, rising to his feet. "You don't have to worry about that."

"Sully will do it, Brian," Michaela added.

"No, Ma. This dog's belonged to me and Katie and B. since she was a pup. I'm the oldest. I should bury her."

Sully glanced at Michaela and reluctantly nodded. She lowered her eyes, turning her gaze back to the dog.

"If that's what ya want," Sully said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"We'll tell the children in the morning," Michaela whispered. "They'll need a chance to say goodbye."

"Come here, Wolf," Brian said, crouching and tenderly lifting the dog into his arms. He turned toward the stairs. "She's slept at the end of my bed every night since she first got here. I don't want that to change."

"Goodnight," Michaela called as he hurried up the stairs. She inhaled unsteadily as a wave of tears clouded her vision.

Sully leaned back against the table and folded his arms.

"I just can't imagine how the children are going to feel," she murmured. "They're so attached to her."

"Nothin' worse than havin' to put down an animal," he said. "First time I had to do it, I was about seven. My hound took sick and my brother told me to take her out back, dig a grave for her and put her down."

"Katie's age," she remarked, eyes filling with tears again.

"Ya think Brian's gonna be all right takin' care of buryin' her on his own?"

"I think so. He's right. It's his dog."

He drew her to his chest and rubbed her back. "I s'pose I never wanted to see my children have to say goodbye to a good pet. At least not this way."

She caressed his chest lovingly. "It's certainly never an easy thing to do. But it's the compassionate thing to do. The children will see that, in time."

"You're right." He squeezed her close. "It's gettin' late. Let's get up to bed."

Katie swiped at a steady flow of tears. "But…but when will she wake up?" she asked hoarsely.

"She'll wake up tomorrow?" Byron added hopefully.

"No, I'm afraid she won't wake up this time," Michaela said, her arms wrapped around the two. The children were sitting on either side of her on the porch bench. They had been peppering Michaela and Sully with questions for the past ten minutes. Neither child was ready to accept their beloved dog's fate, and Michaela was indulging their questions, in no hurry to get on with things herself.

Brian stood nearby, cradling Wolf in his arms as Sully scratched her ears soothingly.

"She's real sick," Sully spoke up. "We just can't help her anymore."

"But you're a doctor, Mama. You can make anybody better," Byron said.

Michaela kissed his head lovingly. "I wish that were true, sweetheart. Sometimes patients don't get better no matter what I do."

Byron broke away from her and stood up, clenching his fists. "No! You have to make Wolf better!"

"Sweetheart, I can't this time."

Sully walked to the bench. "Let's do this."

Katie drew her knees to her chest and buried her face against her apron, letting out a small sob. Michaela reluctantly stood and took the dog from Brian.

Byron grabbed Michaela's arm angrily. "Mama, no! No!"

"Byron, come on," Sully said, caressing his shoulder. "Let's you and me take a walk."

"You want to kill her!" he cried, pulling harder on Michaela's arm. He eyed her furiously. "You're not a good doctor anymore! You're supposed to fix her!"

"B., stop it," Brian spoke up. "This ain't Ma's fault. We gotta put Wolf down. You can see for yourself she's hurtin'."

"Byron, I'm sorry," Michaela said helplessly. "It has to be done."

"I hate you!" Byron retorted.

Hot tears immediately stung Michaela's eyes. Speechless, she looked away and opened the door, disappearing inside where she had laid her medical bag on the table next to a few warm, soft blankets.

"No! I hate you!" Byron cried.

"That's enough," Sully said firmly, grabbing the little boy's arm tightly and startling him. "You sit here on the bench with your sister. Right now."

Byron sunk to the bench and crossed his arms, staring forward rigidly.

"Hey…it'll be all right," Sully said more gently, slowly squatting to the children's level. "Wolf won’t be feelin' any more pain, all right?"

Katie cried harder and Byron stared forward even more intently, refusing to acknowledge Sully.

"He's asleep already," Sully whispered as he rubbed Jack's back in one of the wingback chairs.

Brian looked up from his book, and Michaela looked up from her mending, where she had been making very slow progress darning one of Katie's stockings.

"Would you like me to put him to bed, Sully?" Michaela asked, trimming a piece of thread with her scissors.

"Nah, I think I'll sit here awhile longer," he replied, smoothing the baby's hair from his forehead lovingly as everyone grew quiet again.

The room felt strangely incomplete without Wolf in front of the fire, or dozing in Byron or Katie's lap, or resting her head across Brian's feet as he read.

Brian cleared his throat, glancing at the table where Byron and Katie were working on their addition. He put his bookmark in his book and closed it. "How you two comin' on your schoolwork?"

Katie dropped her slate pencil to the table. "I don't want to do this anymore."

Michaela put down her mending and walked to the table. "Do you need some help?"

"No," Byron said. He was feverishly copying a passage from his reader in barely legible handwriting.

"Byron, you're not wearing your spectacles," Michaela remarked. "And it doesn't look like you're being very careful."

The little boy wrote faster, not replying.

"Where are they?" Michaela persisted. "I want you to go get them and put them on. Byron?"

"Michaela," Sully called softly.

She glanced at him, swallowed and reluctantly dropped the matter.

"Mama? Is Wolf in heaven?" Katie asked suddenly.

Michaela circled the table and sat beside her. "…Yes. I'd like to think she is."

Katie thought a moment. "Can I go upstairs? I'm tired."

"Of course, sweetheart," Michaela said, deciding against correcting her grammar as she kissed her cheek. "Goodnight. I love you."

"I love you," Katie whispered, briefly hugging Michaela's neck before she scurried upstairs to her room.

Michaela turned her attention to Byron. "Sweetheart? Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"No," Byron said simply, all his attention on his schoolwork.

Michaela reached across the table and gently laid her hand on his arm, slowly stroking it. "I'm so sorry about Wolf. I love you."

Urgent pounding on the door startled everyone. "Michaela! Michaela!"

Brian rushed to the door and opened it as Sully stood up and laid the baby on the soft cushion of the chair.

Dorothy rushed into the room, out of breath, her hair coming loose from her bun. "Michaela, you gotta come right away! Somethin's wrong with Joshua!"

Michaela stood. "What happened?"

"I have no idea. He's gone into a fit of rage! He's tearing apart the store. Loren and Jake were tryin' to stop him when I left to get you."

Michaela took her medical bag off the mantel as Sully grabbed their jackets, handing Michaela hers.

"I'll saddle the horses," he said.

"You're coming, Sully?" Michaela asked.

"Sounds like ya might need my help."

"Brian, stay here with the children," Michaela instructed.

"Sure, Ma," Brian replied.

"Do you know what's wrong?" Dorothy asked frantically. "What on earth's going on?"

"It's probably something to do with his illness," Michaela murmured.

"What illness? You mean those headaches he's been havin'?"

"We'll talk about it when we get there," Michaela said, briefly backing up and caressing Byron's shoulder. "I don't know when we'll be back. Try to finish your schoolwork and mind your big brother." She stooped down to kiss Byron's cheek, but he saw it coming and quickly writhed away.

Michaela briefly patted his shoulder and then turned and walked to Dorothy. "Let's go."

continue

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