Nano 2013, day 2: Long Way Home
I'm bad. I stopped in the middle of a scene. Oh, well, there's always tomorrow.
Sully stared out the window of the back room of the Mercantile. He'd been staying there for two days, and Loren and Maude seemed reluctant to let him out of their sight. They'd been trying to get him to accept things like new clothing and money to replace what Abagail had taken or destroyed, but he wouldn't do it. He hadn't truly relied on anyone except Abagail since he was ten years old, and experience had proven that people weren't to be trusted. Well, they could be trusted... to a point. He'd trusted Daniel somewhat, but with his friend, there was always a price involved, always a catch. He was beginning to believe everyone was that way.
He sighed. He couldn't live on Loren and Maude's charity for much longer. He hated being beholden to people, and it was bringing back memories he'd rather forget. He wasn't a child, and he'd been on his own for almost as long as he could remember. He could take care of himself! Though he had to admit that he was grateful that Maude had patched his shirt and trousers; he could sew enough to do that, but his attempts were clumsier than hers had been. He'd still been going to work; he had to eat, after all... though his in-laws had not only insisted he stay with them, but had been feeding him, as well. Slowly, he climbed to his feet and made his way downstairs to the main room of the store.
He must have hit a lull, because there were only a few customers in the store. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said softly. "But I got to be going now."
"You're welcome to stay, Sully," Olive said kindly.
Sully simply shook his head. "It's time," he said.
"You'll always be welcome here, son," Loren said as he came around the counter. "Won't ya let us send some supplies with ya, at least?"
"Thank ya, but no," Sully said. He wouldn't be any more beholden to them than he already was. He still had his knife, and he'd survived with little more than that before. They'd be getting paid tomorrow at the mine, and it would be enough for some blankets and a new ax. Add to that fact that he never went anywhere without the means to start a fire, and he'd almost be as equipped as he used to be before he'd met Her. Granted, a cooking pot or two would be nice, but he could make do.
Maude walked over, a folded bit of paper in her hand. She gave it to him and out of habit, he looked down at it. It was a deed. he shook his head and handed it back. "I don't want it," he said curtly as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Sell it, rent it, burn it down for all I care. I ain't goin' back there." Customers came to the counter and clamored for attention and he used the distraction to slip out of the store. he took a few minutes to think and then started out of town and headed towards his old campsite. If he was lucky, the lean-to would still be in good enough condition to shelter him while he decided where to go next. Perhaps he'd try Nevada and try striking it rich. After all, the home and family thing hadn't worked out at all.
Right before he reached the meadow, a voice calling his name stopped him. "Sully!"
He turned to find Charlotte behind him."Charlotte," he said, not feeling up to being polite at all. He wanted to be alone.
She was carrying a bed roll and a sack, both of which she handed to him. He didn't want to take them, but it was that or drop them on her feet, and Charlotte had always been kind to him. "Don't ya think I don't know that Abagail didn't leave ya a pot ta piss in?" Charlotte asked kindly. "I owe ya for the horse and the cow and the chickens, anyway."
Sully shook his head. "Ya don't. You're doin' me a favor by takin' them.."
"And what about ya payin' off my account at the store and dropping off meat on your days off?" She asked with her hands on her hips. "You've brought shoes for my younguns for the winter months last year and taken Matthew fishin'. Don't think I ain't figured out that the money you made doin' extras and some of the more dangerous things at the mine's been goin' towards me an' my kids."
Sully studied the ground and his worn, scuffed boots as if they were the most interesting things in the world. One of the soles had started to come loose and if they'd had a shoemaker in town, he'd be thinking of taking it in for repair, but the nearest one was in Denver, and that was almost a week away. Abagail hadn't appreciated him helping Charlotte out. She'd wanted the money for fashionable gowns. No matter that there wasn't anywhere to wear such things in Colorado Springs, she'd been downright livid when he'd put the requisite amount in savings and taken what was leftover from their own needs to help out Charlotte. "I know what it's like to grow up without a pa," he said finally. "An' I don't mind helping out."
"You'll always be welcome at our place, Sully; you know I think of ya like a brother." Charlotte patted him on the arm.
He nodded hesitantly. If he were honest with himself, Charlotte was the one person he'd ever met who didn't seem to put a price on everything she did. She was often kind just to be kind, which was an oddity in his experience. For that alone, she was his best friend. Life hadn't treated her very kindly, either. Like him, she was an orphan, and Ethan had left her high and dry a few years back when her youngest was an infant. Helping her out was the least he could do, and he said as much.
"You've inspired me, Sully," Charlotte had a little smile on her face.
"How's that?" he asked as he slung the strap on the bed roll over his shoulder.
"I sent in divorce papers on Ethan on grounds of desertion. Since he don't want us, it makes no sense for me ta wait on him. He ain't no good, just like Abagail." She drew her shawl closer around herself.
He'd met people like Ethan Cooper long before he'd come to the area in 1859 -- gamblers, conmen, swindlers, cheats, and thieves, every last one of them. "Good luck with that, Charlotte," he said softly. "I gotta figure out what's next for me, so I'll be around for a while yet."
"Goin' to your old campsite?" she asked as she smoothed down her skirts.
"For now," he admitted. "I'll stick around 'til I figure out what I'm gonna do."
"Old Man Forbisher's talkin' of sellin' out," she commented.
Sully laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Even if I had the money, And I ain't got it, what would I do with a livery and a forge?"
"But I seen ya do farrier work."
Sully shrugged. "Somethin' I picked up," he said, studying the dusty ground again. "But I don't know nothin' about smithin', and I ain't terrible fond of horses, anyway."
"It's somethin' ta think about, ain't it?" she asked gently.
He hesitated, and then nodded. "I s'pose," he grudgingly admitted.
"Don't be a stranger to us, Sully," Charlotte patted him on the arm again. "Matthew would like it if ya took him fishin' someday soon."
He didn't answer, just nodded again. "She ya around," he said and then walked off. Sully headed towards his old campsite. He hadn't been there in a while, and he only hoped it was in decent enough shape to keep off the rain. He only hoped he had enough cord to both fish and set some snares. It wasn't like he had a gun anymore -- Abagail had ruined that, too. She'd packed both barrels of his shotgun with mud and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to clean it out. When he reached his campsite, he dropped his burdens in front of the fire pit and sat down. Sully eyed the sack, and then opened it and looked inside.
Charlotte had filled it with a few old pots, a frying pan, a coffee pot, a few mismatched utensils, and some staples. There was even an old ax inside -- more than enough for him to survive with for a little while. All of it was well-worn, and from the looks of things, she and Colleen had sewn up some small sacks during a sewing lesson, and she'd used them to put flour, sugar, cornmeal, and coffee in. There was also a bit of salt pork and some dried beans, but nothing else. He certainly wouldn't starve that night... if he bothered to eat.
Sully packed everything except the ax back in the bag and then grabbed some rope he'd left in the lean to on his last hunting trip. He tied it around the neck of the sack, and then threw it over a tree branch, hauled it up and tied it off. The squirrels might get to it, but the bears and other wildlife would leave it alone. With any luck, it wouldn't get too cold. With that in mind, he picked up the ax and headed into the woods to look for dead fall to chop into firewood. He needed something to cook with and to keep him warm when the temperatures dropped at night, so he wandered around until he found a fallen tree and started to chop it up. Part of him, the part that didn't particularly care if he lived or died, wondered why he was even bothering.
He wasn't even sure he would do much more than cut enough wood to last the night because he wasn't really all that hungry, though Charlotte's contributions were appreciated. Soon he had enough, so he hauled it back to his camp along with the ax. Another trip yielded tinder, and it didn't take long for him to start a fire. Sully passed the night with the blankets from the bed roll wrapped around him, feeding the fire to keep it alive, deep in thought. So began the pattern for the days to come. He went to work, but his days off were spent by the fire, only bothering to eat when he had to and rarely sleeping. When he remembered, he washed in a nearby creek. One day, he simply got up one morning and wandered into the woods, going where his feet led him. Once, he tripped and fell into a patch of brambles, scratching up his hands and deeply scratching one leg. It wasn't more than a few days before the scratches became badly infected and so, feverish, he stumbled into a grove of trees and collapsed. Soon the world grew dark around him and he knew no more.
~*~*~*~
It wasn't long after Loren took Sully in that word got around what had happened. Tongues were set wagging by what Abagail had done, and sympathy was on Sully's side. It was the biggest scandal Colorado Springs had ever had, and if the Brays hadn't disowned their daughter, it could have gone badly for them, with people going to Soda Springs or Manitu to pick up their supplies. In a matter of days, mothers could be heard telling their adolescent daughters that they'd better behave if they didn't want to end up in a gutter somewhere like Abagail Bray.
Loren would have preferred to keep it in the family, but he'd known it was only a matter of time before people found out. It was just the way things were. Sully had remained oblivious to it all, but Hank and Jake even left him alone after they found out about Abagail. Horace swore he hadn't said anything, but since the contents of the telegram they'd sent to Marshal Hunt had become common knowledge, he figured that Horace bore at least some of the responsibility.
The night after Sully left, they sat quietly in the parlor. The supper dishes were done and the leftovers put away. Olive had left hours before to go to her ranch and check on the cowhands and the cattle. "He wouldn't take it, Loren," Maude said softly.
"I know," Loren said with a sigh. "We'll hold on to it and maybe rent it out... keep the money for Sully. I go no idea how we're gonna repay him for what Abagail destroyed or stole; we ain't made of money."
"I know." Maude picked up the shirt she was making. "I still can't believe she did that. I mean, I know she did, but..."
Loren sighed. "I know, Maude," he said as he reached for his harmonica. He turned it over and over in his hands. "She ain't who we thought she was. I thought she had a heart as big as the whole world, but..."
"You know Sully's been helpin' Charlotte don't ya?" Maude asked.
Loren nodded. "Heard her say he's the closest thing she's got to a brother since her own passed."
Maude grimaced. "I heard Abagail yellin' at Sully for buyin' the kids shoes and food instead of some fancy gown she wanted." She sent her husband a pleading look. "Has our girl really turned that selfish?"
He sighed and fiddled with the harmonica. "It 'pears so. Just remember, Maude, she ain't ours no more. We've washed our hands of her."
Maude put down the shirt and stared at it, a single tear rolling down her face. "I know," she murmured. "It's just.. hard."
"I know." Loren blew into the harmonica, playing the first few notes of Buffalo Gals before putting it down. "I'm gonna go talk to the Reverend tomorrow. See if we can call a meetin'. The way I see it, we need a doctor -- there was a typhus epidemic in Manitu not too long ago that almost wiped out the town. I figure it's only a matter of time 'fore something catchin' comes through."
Maude nodded and picked up the shirt again. "In a way, we were lucky one was here..." she trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.
"We need a doctor," Loren continued. "With your spells, it'd be handy to have one on hand, 'cause I don't wanna lose you."
Maude reached over and took his hand. "That's good," she said, "because I don't wanna lose you, either."
Loren smiled and kissed her hand. "Guess we'll just have to jog along together." He wasn't sure what was to come, or if they'd ever even see their wayward daughter again, but as long as they were together, he was sure that everything would be all right.
~*~*~*~
Cloud Dancing led his horse through the woods. He'd had a reoccurring dream for over a week now, and he'd been following a lone hawk. It was circling over a particular spot in the woods, which he was aiming for now. He'd spent a lot of time praying, trying to determine if he was doing the right thing and going the right way. "Is this what you had in mind, Grandfather?" he murmured. "I am several miles away from the people and this is white man's territory." He had no wish to be caught by the Army. There had been too many conflicts as it was. Soldiers had been attacking and destroying Cheyenne camps and had already managed to destroy ten percent of their lodges.
Quietly, he made his way to where the hawk was circling and found a white man collapsed in a grove of trees. "Why did you lead me to this white man, Grandfather?" he asked softly.
The white man opened his eyes and peered at him feverishly. Cloud Dancing dropped to his knees. He could not leave another human being like this. From the looks of the man, he wouldn't last much longer without help. He'd made a camp not too far away, and his wife, Snowbird was waiting there making the fever tea. The Spirits had told him they would need it. With a grunt of effort, he picked up the sick man and boosted him over the saddle, grateful he'd bothered to put one on that day, considered he hadn't really intended on riding his horse. The man was burning up. "Are you sure, Grandfather, that he isn't on his way to the Sky People?" he asked softly.
The man opened his eyes and looked at him again, and the first thing that struck Cloud Dancing was how blue those eyes were and the pain in them. He sighed and nodded. "I see," he said. Slowly, he led the horse back to the camp. When the man was well, they would rejoin the rest of the band... and he would have to name his new brother, for that's what the man would be. He could sense that the man would be very important to his people as well as his new family. They would need each other in the times to come.
~*~*~*~
December 1862
Michaela Quinn slumped down on the bench surrounding the large oak tree in the back garden of her family's Boston brownstone. Uncaring that it wasn't ladylike, she drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. She was studiously ignoring the notice she'd received from the hospital, even though the hateful words echoed in her ears. She'd been asked to leave for "moral turpitude" of all things. As if it were her idea for David to lie and fake his death. As if it were her fault he'd been discovered in a prisoner exchange from Libby Prison. He hadn't even been prisoner long when he'd decided to fake his death!
She barely glanced up as her father sat down beside her. "Have I told you how proud I am of you, Mike?" he asked softly.
"Not lately." she hated how close she sounded to tears. Wherever she went, she heard the whispers. Only this time, it was scandal concerning David, not about her daring to be a physician. It didn't help that her sisters insisted on repeating the worst of the gossip to her.
"Well I am. You've stood up through all of it and held your head high." He hugged her gently. "You have nothing to be ashamed of; it's all David's doing, not yours."
Michaela silently handed over the letter. "It doesn't matter, Father. I'm to be punished for his actions anyway -- I threw his ring back into his face."
Josef read the letter his face tightening in anger. "They have no right," he said, anger in his voice.
TBC...
Sully stared out the window of the back room of the Mercantile. He'd been staying there for two days, and Loren and Maude seemed reluctant to let him out of their sight. They'd been trying to get him to accept things like new clothing and money to replace what Abagail had taken or destroyed, but he wouldn't do it. He hadn't truly relied on anyone except Abagail since he was ten years old, and experience had proven that people weren't to be trusted. Well, they could be trusted... to a point. He'd trusted Daniel somewhat, but with his friend, there was always a price involved, always a catch. He was beginning to believe everyone was that way.
He sighed. He couldn't live on Loren and Maude's charity for much longer. He hated being beholden to people, and it was bringing back memories he'd rather forget. He wasn't a child, and he'd been on his own for almost as long as he could remember. He could take care of himself! Though he had to admit that he was grateful that Maude had patched his shirt and trousers; he could sew enough to do that, but his attempts were clumsier than hers had been. He'd still been going to work; he had to eat, after all... though his in-laws had not only insisted he stay with them, but had been feeding him, as well. Slowly, he climbed to his feet and made his way downstairs to the main room of the store.
He must have hit a lull, because there were only a few customers in the store. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for your hospitality," he said softly. "But I got to be going now."
"You're welcome to stay, Sully," Olive said kindly.
Sully simply shook his head. "It's time," he said.
"You'll always be welcome here, son," Loren said as he came around the counter. "Won't ya let us send some supplies with ya, at least?"
"Thank ya, but no," Sully said. He wouldn't be any more beholden to them than he already was. He still had his knife, and he'd survived with little more than that before. They'd be getting paid tomorrow at the mine, and it would be enough for some blankets and a new ax. Add to that fact that he never went anywhere without the means to start a fire, and he'd almost be as equipped as he used to be before he'd met Her. Granted, a cooking pot or two would be nice, but he could make do.
Maude walked over, a folded bit of paper in her hand. She gave it to him and out of habit, he looked down at it. It was a deed. he shook his head and handed it back. "I don't want it," he said curtly as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Sell it, rent it, burn it down for all I care. I ain't goin' back there." Customers came to the counter and clamored for attention and he used the distraction to slip out of the store. he took a few minutes to think and then started out of town and headed towards his old campsite. If he was lucky, the lean-to would still be in good enough condition to shelter him while he decided where to go next. Perhaps he'd try Nevada and try striking it rich. After all, the home and family thing hadn't worked out at all.
Right before he reached the meadow, a voice calling his name stopped him. "Sully!"
He turned to find Charlotte behind him."Charlotte," he said, not feeling up to being polite at all. He wanted to be alone.
She was carrying a bed roll and a sack, both of which she handed to him. He didn't want to take them, but it was that or drop them on her feet, and Charlotte had always been kind to him. "Don't ya think I don't know that Abagail didn't leave ya a pot ta piss in?" Charlotte asked kindly. "I owe ya for the horse and the cow and the chickens, anyway."
Sully shook his head. "Ya don't. You're doin' me a favor by takin' them.."
"And what about ya payin' off my account at the store and dropping off meat on your days off?" She asked with her hands on her hips. "You've brought shoes for my younguns for the winter months last year and taken Matthew fishin'. Don't think I ain't figured out that the money you made doin' extras and some of the more dangerous things at the mine's been goin' towards me an' my kids."
Sully studied the ground and his worn, scuffed boots as if they were the most interesting things in the world. One of the soles had started to come loose and if they'd had a shoemaker in town, he'd be thinking of taking it in for repair, but the nearest one was in Denver, and that was almost a week away. Abagail hadn't appreciated him helping Charlotte out. She'd wanted the money for fashionable gowns. No matter that there wasn't anywhere to wear such things in Colorado Springs, she'd been downright livid when he'd put the requisite amount in savings and taken what was leftover from their own needs to help out Charlotte. "I know what it's like to grow up without a pa," he said finally. "An' I don't mind helping out."
"You'll always be welcome at our place, Sully; you know I think of ya like a brother." Charlotte patted him on the arm.
He nodded hesitantly. If he were honest with himself, Charlotte was the one person he'd ever met who didn't seem to put a price on everything she did. She was often kind just to be kind, which was an oddity in his experience. For that alone, she was his best friend. Life hadn't treated her very kindly, either. Like him, she was an orphan, and Ethan had left her high and dry a few years back when her youngest was an infant. Helping her out was the least he could do, and he said as much.
"You've inspired me, Sully," Charlotte had a little smile on her face.
"How's that?" he asked as he slung the strap on the bed roll over his shoulder.
"I sent in divorce papers on Ethan on grounds of desertion. Since he don't want us, it makes no sense for me ta wait on him. He ain't no good, just like Abagail." She drew her shawl closer around herself.
He'd met people like Ethan Cooper long before he'd come to the area in 1859 -- gamblers, conmen, swindlers, cheats, and thieves, every last one of them. "Good luck with that, Charlotte," he said softly. "I gotta figure out what's next for me, so I'll be around for a while yet."
"Goin' to your old campsite?" she asked as she smoothed down her skirts.
"For now," he admitted. "I'll stick around 'til I figure out what I'm gonna do."
"Old Man Forbisher's talkin' of sellin' out," she commented.
Sully laughed, but there was no humor in it. "Even if I had the money, And I ain't got it, what would I do with a livery and a forge?"
"But I seen ya do farrier work."
Sully shrugged. "Somethin' I picked up," he said, studying the dusty ground again. "But I don't know nothin' about smithin', and I ain't terrible fond of horses, anyway."
"It's somethin' ta think about, ain't it?" she asked gently.
He hesitated, and then nodded. "I s'pose," he grudgingly admitted.
"Don't be a stranger to us, Sully," Charlotte patted him on the arm again. "Matthew would like it if ya took him fishin' someday soon."
He didn't answer, just nodded again. "She ya around," he said and then walked off. Sully headed towards his old campsite. He hadn't been there in a while, and he only hoped it was in decent enough shape to keep off the rain. He only hoped he had enough cord to both fish and set some snares. It wasn't like he had a gun anymore -- Abagail had ruined that, too. She'd packed both barrels of his shotgun with mud and he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to clean it out. When he reached his campsite, he dropped his burdens in front of the fire pit and sat down. Sully eyed the sack, and then opened it and looked inside.
Charlotte had filled it with a few old pots, a frying pan, a coffee pot, a few mismatched utensils, and some staples. There was even an old ax inside -- more than enough for him to survive with for a little while. All of it was well-worn, and from the looks of things, she and Colleen had sewn up some small sacks during a sewing lesson, and she'd used them to put flour, sugar, cornmeal, and coffee in. There was also a bit of salt pork and some dried beans, but nothing else. He certainly wouldn't starve that night... if he bothered to eat.
Sully packed everything except the ax back in the bag and then grabbed some rope he'd left in the lean to on his last hunting trip. He tied it around the neck of the sack, and then threw it over a tree branch, hauled it up and tied it off. The squirrels might get to it, but the bears and other wildlife would leave it alone. With any luck, it wouldn't get too cold. With that in mind, he picked up the ax and headed into the woods to look for dead fall to chop into firewood. He needed something to cook with and to keep him warm when the temperatures dropped at night, so he wandered around until he found a fallen tree and started to chop it up. Part of him, the part that didn't particularly care if he lived or died, wondered why he was even bothering.
He wasn't even sure he would do much more than cut enough wood to last the night because he wasn't really all that hungry, though Charlotte's contributions were appreciated. Soon he had enough, so he hauled it back to his camp along with the ax. Another trip yielded tinder, and it didn't take long for him to start a fire. Sully passed the night with the blankets from the bed roll wrapped around him, feeding the fire to keep it alive, deep in thought. So began the pattern for the days to come. He went to work, but his days off were spent by the fire, only bothering to eat when he had to and rarely sleeping. When he remembered, he washed in a nearby creek. One day, he simply got up one morning and wandered into the woods, going where his feet led him. Once, he tripped and fell into a patch of brambles, scratching up his hands and deeply scratching one leg. It wasn't more than a few days before the scratches became badly infected and so, feverish, he stumbled into a grove of trees and collapsed. Soon the world grew dark around him and he knew no more.
~*~*~*~
It wasn't long after Loren took Sully in that word got around what had happened. Tongues were set wagging by what Abagail had done, and sympathy was on Sully's side. It was the biggest scandal Colorado Springs had ever had, and if the Brays hadn't disowned their daughter, it could have gone badly for them, with people going to Soda Springs or Manitu to pick up their supplies. In a matter of days, mothers could be heard telling their adolescent daughters that they'd better behave if they didn't want to end up in a gutter somewhere like Abagail Bray.
Loren would have preferred to keep it in the family, but he'd known it was only a matter of time before people found out. It was just the way things were. Sully had remained oblivious to it all, but Hank and Jake even left him alone after they found out about Abagail. Horace swore he hadn't said anything, but since the contents of the telegram they'd sent to Marshal Hunt had become common knowledge, he figured that Horace bore at least some of the responsibility.
The night after Sully left, they sat quietly in the parlor. The supper dishes were done and the leftovers put away. Olive had left hours before to go to her ranch and check on the cowhands and the cattle. "He wouldn't take it, Loren," Maude said softly.
"I know," Loren said with a sigh. "We'll hold on to it and maybe rent it out... keep the money for Sully. I go no idea how we're gonna repay him for what Abagail destroyed or stole; we ain't made of money."
"I know." Maude picked up the shirt she was making. "I still can't believe she did that. I mean, I know she did, but..."
Loren sighed. "I know, Maude," he said as he reached for his harmonica. He turned it over and over in his hands. "She ain't who we thought she was. I thought she had a heart as big as the whole world, but..."
"You know Sully's been helpin' Charlotte don't ya?" Maude asked.
Loren nodded. "Heard her say he's the closest thing she's got to a brother since her own passed."
Maude grimaced. "I heard Abagail yellin' at Sully for buyin' the kids shoes and food instead of some fancy gown she wanted." She sent her husband a pleading look. "Has our girl really turned that selfish?"
He sighed and fiddled with the harmonica. "It 'pears so. Just remember, Maude, she ain't ours no more. We've washed our hands of her."
Maude put down the shirt and stared at it, a single tear rolling down her face. "I know," she murmured. "It's just.. hard."
"I know." Loren blew into the harmonica, playing the first few notes of Buffalo Gals before putting it down. "I'm gonna go talk to the Reverend tomorrow. See if we can call a meetin'. The way I see it, we need a doctor -- there was a typhus epidemic in Manitu not too long ago that almost wiped out the town. I figure it's only a matter of time 'fore something catchin' comes through."
Maude nodded and picked up the shirt again. "In a way, we were lucky one was here..." she trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish the sentence.
"We need a doctor," Loren continued. "With your spells, it'd be handy to have one on hand, 'cause I don't wanna lose you."
Maude reached over and took his hand. "That's good," she said, "because I don't wanna lose you, either."
Loren smiled and kissed her hand. "Guess we'll just have to jog along together." He wasn't sure what was to come, or if they'd ever even see their wayward daughter again, but as long as they were together, he was sure that everything would be all right.
~*~*~*~
Cloud Dancing led his horse through the woods. He'd had a reoccurring dream for over a week now, and he'd been following a lone hawk. It was circling over a particular spot in the woods, which he was aiming for now. He'd spent a lot of time praying, trying to determine if he was doing the right thing and going the right way. "Is this what you had in mind, Grandfather?" he murmured. "I am several miles away from the people and this is white man's territory." He had no wish to be caught by the Army. There had been too many conflicts as it was. Soldiers had been attacking and destroying Cheyenne camps and had already managed to destroy ten percent of their lodges.
Quietly, he made his way to where the hawk was circling and found a white man collapsed in a grove of trees. "Why did you lead me to this white man, Grandfather?" he asked softly.
The white man opened his eyes and peered at him feverishly. Cloud Dancing dropped to his knees. He could not leave another human being like this. From the looks of the man, he wouldn't last much longer without help. He'd made a camp not too far away, and his wife, Snowbird was waiting there making the fever tea. The Spirits had told him they would need it. With a grunt of effort, he picked up the sick man and boosted him over the saddle, grateful he'd bothered to put one on that day, considered he hadn't really intended on riding his horse. The man was burning up. "Are you sure, Grandfather, that he isn't on his way to the Sky People?" he asked softly.
The man opened his eyes and looked at him again, and the first thing that struck Cloud Dancing was how blue those eyes were and the pain in them. He sighed and nodded. "I see," he said. Slowly, he led the horse back to the camp. When the man was well, they would rejoin the rest of the band... and he would have to name his new brother, for that's what the man would be. He could sense that the man would be very important to his people as well as his new family. They would need each other in the times to come.
~*~*~*~
December 1862
Michaela Quinn slumped down on the bench surrounding the large oak tree in the back garden of her family's Boston brownstone. Uncaring that it wasn't ladylike, she drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. She was studiously ignoring the notice she'd received from the hospital, even though the hateful words echoed in her ears. She'd been asked to leave for "moral turpitude" of all things. As if it were her idea for David to lie and fake his death. As if it were her fault he'd been discovered in a prisoner exchange from Libby Prison. He hadn't even been prisoner long when he'd decided to fake his death!
She barely glanced up as her father sat down beside her. "Have I told you how proud I am of you, Mike?" he asked softly.
"Not lately." she hated how close she sounded to tears. Wherever she went, she heard the whispers. Only this time, it was scandal concerning David, not about her daring to be a physician. It didn't help that her sisters insisted on repeating the worst of the gossip to her.
"Well I am. You've stood up through all of it and held your head high." He hugged her gently. "You have nothing to be ashamed of; it's all David's doing, not yours."
Michaela silently handed over the letter. "It doesn't matter, Father. I'm to be punished for his actions anyway -- I threw his ring back into his face."
Josef read the letter his face tightening in anger. "They have no right," he said, anger in his voice.
TBC...