Chapter 25

"I must say ... you've done a wonderful job with this Brian," said Michaela proudly. She was holding out in front of her a copy of the special edition of the Gazette containing the train robbery article.

The boy shrugged dismissively. "Took me longer 'an I expected," he said. "Wanted ta get it out yesterday afternoon ..."

"But the interview with the engineer, Mr Thompson ... went very well ...," she defended.

"I suppose ... hope everyone else's gonna like it," he said uncertainly.

"I'm sure they will," said Anna who was standing by the two outside the Gazette office.

"It was ma's idea ta do the extra interview ..."

"But *you* conducted it," said Anna. "And I was there while you did ... You handled it very well ..."

"It was hard," he conceded. "I didn' know if he'd talk ta me ... he's bin through a lot ..."

"Yes he has ... and you were very conscious of that," Anna reassured him.

"You didn't mind me suggesting the interview did you Brian?" asked Michaela anxiously. "It was just that when we arrived in town yesterday and he was conscious and lucid ... it seemed like a good idea ..."

"It was ma," said Brian at once. "I guess I was angry with myself for not havin' thought of it first ..."

She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and squeezed. "You can't be expected to think of everything ... after all ... you'd worked most of the previous night on your first edition ...," she said, the pride evident in her tone.

He pulled away from her self-consciously and blushed. "Ma ..," he protested under his breath.

She chuckled. "I know ... I know," she said with a smile. "Mothers don't hug their grown-up sons in public ..."

He grinned wryly, then addressed Anna, "You gonna give me that interview soon Dr McLeod ... so's I can tell folks all about ya?"

She grimaced. "Ah ... perhaps not yet ...," she answered reluctantly.

"Soon though?"

"Perhaps," she returned noncommittally. "We'll know when the time is right ..."

"How's that?"

"You'll see ...," she replied. "Now I should be getting back to the clinic ... I have supplies to sort and pack for the Chateau ..."

Michaela watched and listened to this exchange with sympathy. Even *she* couldn't guess how the town would react to Anna's secret when it was finally revealed. It didn't worry her. In fact she admired the woman's courage, but this town was renowned for rejecting the non-conformist, at least at first. She'd hired Anna for her medical abilities and her attitude to medicine, not for any aspect of her personal life, but she wasn't sure the townsfolk would see it like that. Still, they'd cross that bridge, hopefully intact, when they came to it.

Horace, on his way to the clinic, suddenly spied Brian and the two women outside the Gazette office and headed their way. "Dr Mike, Dr McLeod," he called as he strode towards them, two envelopes in his hand.

Michaela held her breath upon recognising who it was calling them. "Horace?" she queried anxiously, desperately hoping to hear from Sully.

"Got a telegram ... for Dr McLeod," he said. "From Washington ... an' I got a letter for you Dr Mike ..."

"Nothing from Sully?" she asked with disappointment.

He shook his head. "Nothin' yet ... Its only bin a coupla days ..."

"I know," she said, her voice low.

"I'll let ya know as soon as I hear anythin' ... anythin' at all," he assured her kindly.

She nodded resignedly. "Thank-you," she returned quietly. He doffed his hat and hastened back towards the telegraph office.

Michaela raised her eyes to see Anna devouring the contents of her telegram. "Good news?" she asked.

The younger woman looked up and nodded, her eyes shining. "Very," she replied. She rested the telegram against her heart and took a deep, excited breath. "Only a few more days," she murmured longingly.

"That's wonderful," returned Michaela.

Anna nodded and headed back to the clinic, a definite skip in her step.

"You knew what that telegram was about ma?" asked Brian, his curiosity piqued.

"Mmmm," she replied, her eyes still following the woman as she stepped up onto the clinic porch.

"She seemed pretty excited," he remarked, hoping his mother would elucidate.

"Yes she did," she replied, remaining noncommittal.  

He eyed her with frustration, but knew his mother too well to push any further. At last he said, "Who's your letter from ma? Grandma?"

Michaela looked down as if only just realising she was holding the letter tightly in her hand. She examined the handwriting. "No ... not grandma," she replied. "Its from Dorothy ..." She quickly glanced up and down the street then added," Let's go inside ..."

"She says they arrived safely in the indian territory ... though things are not as peaceful as they were," Michaela outlined as she scanned the letter. "The weather's already a lot cooler up there ... and apparently the army presence in the area is more noticeable now ... Flying Hawk has had several visits from men from Indian Affairs ..." Her brow creased in consternation. She and Sully had been worried that things would change in the indian territory, but had not expected anything to happen so soon. She returned to the letter, "She wrote it from Blackwood.  She's staying in a hotel there trying to find out what the army is aiming to do ... They don't know yet that she's connected with the Cheyenne .."

"That sounds pretty dangerous ma," interjected Brian.

"Yes it does," she agreed worriedly. "I hope she does nothing foolish ..."

"Remember how clever she was when me an' Cloud Dancin' an' her were headin' back up there with Flyin' Hawk's people," Brian assured her. "She's good at makin' up stories ... ones the army'll believe."

Michaela took a deep breath. "I suppose ...," she conceded. "I wonder what Sully will think when he sees this ..."

"He'll be worried ... just like you are ... but it don' sound like there's any trouble ..."

"Not yet ..."

"No ... not yet ..."

"I do so wish there was a way we could communicate without having to rely on Dorothy getting into a town ... after all, any town is a long way from the indian lands ...," she bemoaned. "Even this letter was written days ago ... Something could've happened since then ..."

"Well there aint any way ma ... much as we'd like it ... So we're just gonna have ta hope nothin's gone wrong ... Flyin' Hawk don' want war ... an' we know Cloud Dancin' an' Miss Dorothy can look after themselves ..."

She nodded. "I do hope so," she prayed. She folded the letter and placed it carefully in the pocket of her skirt.  "We'll talk about it again tonight ... I better get back to the clinic so Anna can go out to the Chateau ..."

*********************
Loren wandered out onto the porch of the mercantile and stretched. Less than an hour to go and he could close for the day. Sometimes he wondered whether he was getting too old to run the mercantile on his own, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone. He peered down the street and watched the southbound train slowly draw away from the station in a cloud of smoke and steam. Despite losing one of their drivers in that robbery a few days back, the railroad people had pretty quickly got the trains back on schedule.

His eyes narrowed. A stranger was walking casually away from the station, up the street towards him. He must have disembarked from the just departed train from Denver. The man's appearance was one that wouldn't easily be forgotten. He was extremely portly, his waistcoat straining across his belly, his bowler hat one size too small on his large head. He had a very dark, thick moustache that trailed down each side of his face almost to his jawline, and his black, bushy eyebrows formed one continuous line across his brow, shadowing his eyes beneath. His eyes were casting about the town with interest, and his small carpetbag swung nonchalantly by his side. He didn't look like one of those travelling salesman that had become so common the last few years. He didn't look slick enough and, besides, they usually carried smart leather cases containing their products. He didn't look like a banker either, or not like any banker Loren had ever met up with.

The stranger's eyes rose to meet Loren's as he approached and he smiled. "Afternoon," he said, his voice deep.

"Howdy," Loren responded.

"Wonder if you could help me?" said the man.

"I could try," replied Loren.

"I'm looking for a Mr Brian Cooper ... Could you tell me where he might be?"

Loren glanced across at the Gazette office. "He's probably workin' on the town newspaper," he rejoined. "Just down the street there ... past the medical clinic ... you can't miss the office ... got a big sign out front ..."

The man smiled again. "Thank-you," he said before turning in the direction Loren had pointed.

At that moment, Brian emerged from the clinic closely followed by Michaela. They began loading the wagon. "There he is now," said Loren. "With his ma ... the lady doctor ... ya better hurry ... looks like they're headin' home ..."

Unseen by Loren, the man's eyes opened wide in surprise. Brian Cooper really was just a boy. He called a loud, "Thanks again," and scurried across the street towards the wagon outside the clinic.

Loren pensively watched him go. What would such a man want with young Brian? There always seemed to be strangers turning up in town nowadays. He wasn't sure he liked all this change. A smiling Dr McLeod mounted the porch steps and entered the mercantile. He took one last, thoughtful look at the stranger, then followed her inside.

*********************
Sully held up his hand indicating the others should stop and keep behind him. He silently slid from his horse's back and pointed to where perhaps fifty yards ahead a thin wisp of grey smoke wafted into the air and two saddled horses could be just seen tethered amongst the trees. "Lead your horses over behind those rocks an' trees," he whispered. "I'll go see if its them ..."

Hank drew his gun. "I'll go with ya," he said intently.

Sully shook his head. "No," he said. "Might not be them ... but if it *is*, I don' want 'em ta know we're here ..."

Hank frowned and looked to be about to object, then thought better of it and conceded, placing his gun back in his holster.

Sully nodded his thanks and took off silently towards the horses and campfire in the distance.

Sully crouched and peered through the bushes. The two men sat silently huddled around a dwindling fire, their saddlebags close by their sides. Each looked as if this was the last place they wanted to be. At last the taller one said morosely, "Well then ... what now huh? What're we gonna tell Bella when we get back tomorra huh?"

The other man shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said ... it weren't our fault ..."

"She didn' want us ta take him ..."

"Yeah well ... he wanted ta come ... he was a grown man ... didn' have ta listen ta his sister ..."

"Now we gotta tell her her brother's dead ... He shoulda listened to us ..."

"He was too stupid ... got too close too soon ..." The shorter one nodded towards the bulging saddlebags. "We did alright though ... Walt'll be pleased I reckon ..."

"Yeah, but I still aint lookin' forward ta seein' Bella," rejoined the taller one glumly.

The shorter man picked up a small stone and threw it at the other. "Don' go on about it no more ... I've had enough o' you moanin' about Bella ... What's done is done ..."

If anything the taller man huddled even further down into his coat and the two once again lapsed into silence.

Sully had heard enough. These were the two they were after alright. He quietly edged back, carefully avoiding fallen twigs and rocks, then when he was far enough away, set off at a run for the posse's hiding place.

Robert E saw him first. "Well ... is it them?" he asked.

"Its them alright ... even without Matthew's description I heard enough ta know ..."

Hank stood and drew his gun. "Let's go then," he said eagerly.

Sully held up his hand. "Not so fast ... we wanna take 'em back alive don' we? Think we should wait for dark ..."

"What then Sully?" demanded Jake. "We aint gonna be able ta see either ya know ..."

"Oh we'll see 'em alright ... they'll have their fire ... but they won't be able ta see us ..."

"So we jump 'em?" Jake concluded.

"Yeah ... sorta," returned Sully mysteriously. "Sit down ... we've got an hour or so before we have ta git over there ... I'll tell ya what I'm plannin' ..."

********************
"Brian Cooper?" asked the portly man as he approached the Sully wagon.

Brian spun around. "Uh huh," he replied uncertainly, wondering who this stranger was.

The man held out his hand. "Samuel Proctor," he introduced himself.

Brian's eyes opened wide. "Editor of the Denver Post!" he exclaimed. "Um .. ah ..." He scrubbed his hands against his pants and shook the man's hand. "Ah .. never expected ta see you here sir ..."

The man smiled, accentuating his rounded and rosy cheeks. "I'm afraid curiosity got the better of me young man ... had to see for myself the boy who's running the town's newspaper ... I must admit, I had my doubts as to the veracity of the story ..."

"I'm only helpin' out Miss Dorothy while she's away sir ... I aint really runnin' the Gazette ..."

"But you are putting it out twice weekly ... on your own?"

"Ah yes sir," Brian replied self-consciously.

"And doing a wonderful job of it," added Michaela walking toward the two from the direction of the clinic. She held out her hand. "Dr Michaela Quinn," she said with a welcoming smile.

"Samuel Proctor of the Denver Post," he rejoined, shaking her hand. "I've come across your name several times over the years Dr Quinn ... amongst the local news ..." She grimaced and he chuckled. "You've developed quite a reputation for your outspoken views on various issues ...," he added.

She shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "I can't sit by and watch things happen without trying to do something about them," she explained. "Now ... are you here on a news story Mr Proctor ... perhaps the train robbery?"

He shook his head. "Old news," he said. "Except I believe you have the train engineer here, recuperating from a gunshot wound?"

"Yes ... he's in the clinic ... he'll be able to leave for Denver in a couple of days," she replied.

"I wonder if I could perhaps see him while I'm here?"

"I'll ask him," she replied. "Brian interviewed him yesterday ... and published the interview in a special edition of The Gazette this morning," she added.

The man's eyebrows rose. "He did, did he?" he said with wry amusement. "So my interview would not be an exclusive hmmm? I'd like to see a copy of that special edition young man ..."

"Yes sir," rejoined Brian at once. "I'll go get one ..." He raced off towards the Gazette office and rapidly returned with a copy of the special edition. "Here ya are Mr Proctor sir," he said, handing the paper over.

The editor quickly scanned the single page edition and then raised his eyes to Brian. "Seems we have a newspaperman in the making," he said. "I'm staying in town overnight ... returning on tomorrow's nine o'clock train ... I'm wondering if we could talk?"

Brian glanced across at his mother who was smiling proudly. "Ah ... we were just about ta go home sir," he said. "Maybe ... ah ..."

"What my son is trying to do Mr Proctor, is invite you to supper ... as long as you don't mind eating with family ... including two very young siblings who do not yet know the basics of etiquette ..."

The editor chuckled. "I'd be delighted," he returned. "A home-cooked meal is seldom on my agenda ... I'm afraid I eat at my desk most nights ... This night away from the office is quite a change ..."

Michaela nodded. "Good ... then perhaps you'd like to climb up onto the wagon Mr Proctor ... we have to collect my two youngest on the way home and then you can relax ... Alright?"

He nodded, dropped his carpetbag into the back and awkwardly hauled his considerable bulk up onto the wagon seat. Brian clambered into the back and they set off for Matthew and Kathleen's homestead.

**********************
Jake wriggled, trying to ease the cramp that threatened to painfully constrict his thigh and calf muscles. They'd been waiting, hidden here in the bushes close to the train robbers' camp, for what seemed like hours, but in actuality was probably less than two. He glanced across at the fellow members of the posse. He could just make out their shapes in the darkness of the night. Waiting, their eyes were focussed unerringly on the campsite and the two men.

Occasionally there was desultory conversation between the two, but it was obvious there was no love lost between them. The death of the third robber dominated their limited conversation.

At last the taller of the two men stood and wandered off from the campsite at right angles to the posse. Sully and Robert E immediately rose and moved off as quietly as possible after him, while Jake and Hank kept their eyes firmly fixed on the other one.

Only a few yards beyond the firelight the man stopped and began to undo the buttons on the front of his trousers. That was when Sully and Robert E pounced. Without a sound, Sully's gloved hand covered the man's mouth and a vice-like arm encircled him as he began to struggle against the unexpected and frightening invasion. In the meantime, Robert E grasped his arm and twisted it up behind his back, then gripped the second hand and did the same. Within seconds the man's hands were bound and he was forced to his knees by Sully. Not a sound had been made, except for the man's guttural objections to the gag that replaced Sully's hand on his mouth.

In the meantime Hank and Jake watched the second man. As if he had heard something, he stirred and peered into the darkness in the direction his cohort had taken. He frowned and stood. That was the signal for Hank to hurl a large stone as far as he could across the campsite into the woods beyond. The man immediately drew his gun and began to fire randomly in the opposite direction to Hank and Jake who were stealthily creeping up behind him. He must have sensed them coming, for suddenly he spun around and aimed his gun at them. They were close enough for Hank to grasp his arm and thrust the gun upwards at the starry sky. The man pulled the trigger and again the gun exploded as he struggled to throw off his aggressors. Though this man was the shorter of the two, he was by far the stronger, and he managed to shove Jake aside utilising his body strength and his booted feet. The barber landed in a sorry heap, wearing the imprint of the man's boot on his upper thigh. As he fell, he cracked his skull on a stone in the clearing and immediately lost consciousness.

Hank grappled with the man, wresting his gun from his hand, and sending it skidding towards the campfire. Unable to use his own gun, as was his inclination, Hank continued to try to overpower the furious man, occasionally landing punches that proved largely ineffectual. Without warning, he was abruptly thrust away, thrown off balance by the man's strength and his gun tumbled to the ground, out of immediate reach. The robber locked eyes with his adversary and sneered as he withdrew from a concealed pouch beneath his coat, a long, shiny and no doubt *very* sharp knife. Smugly, he began to wave it menacingly in the barkeep's face.

Chapter 26

Hank's eyes focussed on the gleaming knife in the robber's hand, his complete attention given to swaying from one side to the other as the man lunged towards him, then retreated when the weapon failed to find its mark. Like two wolves protecting their territory they faced each other, sometimes moving forward, then moving back, testing each the other's skill and perseverance. The world around them became unimportant, the will to survive paramount. Again the man lunged, missing Hank's arm by inches as he sprang back, out of reach of the gruesome weapon.

It was into this scenario that Sully suddenly made an appearance in the firelight. The man's attention was distracted for only a split second, but Hank took the opportunity and pounced. He lunged forward, reaching for the man's wrist in an attempt to disarm him but he was quick and lashed out randomly with the knife, slashing a bloody trail across the barkeep's chest and upper arm. With a growl of pain and fury, Hank roared forward, shoulder down, toward the man, sending him reeling. Next Sully joined the fray from behind, grabbing him, then thrusting his arm upward before banging it down hard across his knee, loosening the grip on the weapon. As it clattered to the ground Sully kicked it away. Hank, bleeding profusely from his wound, lashed out at the man, smashing his fist into his face and with an ominous crack broke his nose. The robber gasped, and collapsed back into Sully's arms. Hank kept punching until Sully lowered the barely conscious man to the ground, then confronted the barkeep. "That's enough Hank," he said calmly. "We got him now ... He aint goin' anywhere ..."

"Dammit!!" expostulated Hank. "Look what he done ta me Sully .... I'll kill him ..." Again he lunged forward.

Sully placed his hand squarely in the middle of Hank's chest. "No ya won't ... we're takin' him back alive," he rejoined sternly. "Robert E?" he called. "Need ta tie this fella up ..."

Robert E emerged from the darkness dragging the first bound and gagged man along with him. He dropped him beside the other and rushed off to collect the rope they'd hidden. Within minutes the man was bound in a similar fashion to his partner while Sully continued to restrain Hank, though his insistence on revenge decreased in direct proportion to the rapidly increasing searing pain in his chest and arm. At last he slumped to the ground, his hand held against his bloody arm, his breathing rapid as the waves of pain overcame him.

"At that moment Jake groggily raised his head from the ground and asked, "What happened? Did we get 'em?"

Sully and Robert E exchanged amused looks before Sully said, "Robert E ... maybe ya better check him out ... I'll go get somethin' for Hank's arm ..."

The blacksmith stooped to examine Jake, while Sully disappeared into the night to collect their horses and supplies.

********************
"That was delicious Dr Quinn," beamed Samuel Proctor as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Fried chicken has always been a favourite ..."

Michaela stood and reached for the man's empty plate. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she said with a smile. "I'm afraid cooking is not one of my finest accomplishments ..."

"I wouldn't say that," he protested. "I wouldn't say that at all ..."

She shrugged off his compliment and asked, "Pie Mr Proctor? Its apple ..."

"Yes please," he returned, his eyes aglow.

While Michaela worked in the kitchen serving the dessert, the editor turned to Brian. "I know the supper table is not the most appropriate place to discuss business young man ... but as my time is limited ...," he began.

"Yes sir," responded Brian at once.

"First I want to talk about the article you sent me ... about the renegade Red Fox ..."

"I was workin' on it ta take to Denver when I visited," interjected Brian. "But when I couldn't go cos of lookin' after the Gazette, pa suggested I send it to ya ..."

"I'm glad he did ... It was a fine piece of work ..."

"It was?"

"Yes ... I was quite impressed ... Without the embellishments it would make a fine newspaper article ..."

Brian frowned. "Embellishments?" he queried, confused.

"Those aspects you may have exaggerated ... or even made up ... to make the article more interesting to the reader," Mr Proctor explained. "You can do that in a piece of fiction young man ... but the newspaperman must not ..."

"I ... I dunno what parts ya mean sir," said Brian, still puzzled. "I ... I don' think I made anythin' up ..."

"So you're telling me you actually met Red Fox and his men and survived it?" queried the editor sceptically.

"Uh huh ... me an' ma ... just like I wrote it ..."

The man's brow creased thoughtfully.

Michaela re-entering the room with steaming plates of pie, said quietly, "Its true Mr Proctor ... we did come across Red Fox ... or rather ... he came upon us ... on the trail ..."

"But he was notorious for murdering any white man or woman with whom he came into contact ..."

"Yes ... he was ..."

"But he didn't hurt you ..."

Brian interjected, "I tried speakin' to him in Cheyenne ... He seemed surprised I could ... but I don' think he'd o' let us go if pa ... Sully ... hadn' come along ..."

"Your father is Byron Sully?" queried the editor in surprise.

"Uh huh ..."

The man sat back in his chair and smiled wryly. "That explains a lot," he said. "I wondered about the sensitive balance you exhibited in your writing ... between the plight of the Cheyenne and the circumstances of the white settlers he was murdering ..."

"Pa says I should always look at things from both sides," returned Brian, sitting straighter in his chair.

"That's not always easy ..."

"No ... it aint ... especially cos Red Fox weren't like any other indian I'd met ... he was so filled with hate he didn't seem ta have room for any other feelin's ..."

The editor shook his head, his tantalising pie momentarily forgotten. "And yet, in a way, you could understand him ..."

"I could understand why he hated the white man ... I guess I had trouble understanding why he had ta kill every one of 'em he saw ..."

"Except you and your family ..."

Brian lowered his eyes to the table, then said quietly, "Sully reminded him how hard he'd been trying to make things better for the Cheyenne ... that he'd tried workin' with the army an' government to stop the fightin' ..."

"And Red Fox listened?"

"I suppose he did ... He let us go didn' he?"

"So the other things you wrote about ... burying the O'Connell family members ... and then Mr Sully and the indian Cloud Dancing deciding they had no choice but to work with the army ... that was all true?"

"Uh huh ... It was real hard for pa an' Cloud Dancin' ta do what they did ... They've spent years tryin' ta make things better for the Cheyenne ... they never thought they'd have ta betray one of 'em ...," said Brian quietly, sincerely.

The editor shook his head in wonder. "Your piece read like a piece of fiction ... holding this reader's interest ... and yet it was all true ...," he mused.

"I tried real hard with it ... Pa read it an' said it was probably the most accurate article that would ever be written about Red Fox," he stated proudly.

"I'm disappointed your father isn't here," said Mr Proctor. "I am beginning to feel I'd like to meet him ..."

"Like I told ya ... he's out with a posse lookin' for those train robbers ..."

"By the sound of it ... he'll probably find them ..."

"Oh he'll find 'em alright," returned Brian confidently. "He's the best tracker in the Territory ..." He lowered his eyes and conceded, "Well maybe there's some indians good as him ..." 

The editor chuckled and picked up his spoon, his eyes twinkling. After he'd devoured the pie with relish, he asked, "What are your plans son ... for the future?"

Brian shrugged. "I wanna study ta be a newspaperman," he said.  "I haven't decided where yet ... I decided not ta go away ta college this year ... thought I'd help Miss Dorothy out with the Gazette ... good thing I did ..."

"Do you know how long she'll be away?"

Brian's eyes darted to his mother's. Michaela replied for him, "We're waiting to hear ... It could be weeks ... even months ..."

"And you're prepared to run the paper how ever long you're needed hey Brian," the editor concluded.

"Uh huh," Brian rejoined. "Its harder an' I expected though ... writin' the articles ... settin' the type an' doin' the printin' ..."

"You should get some help ..."

"Pa was helpin' me out with the printin' ... but then the train robbery happened ..."

"And you lost your assistant ..."

Brian grinned. "Yeah," he replied. "But I'm hopin' he'll still want ta help me when he gets back ..."

The editor nodded, then asked, "Have you thought about studying in Denver?"

"Yeah ... its one of the colleges I'm lookin' at ..."

"Well if you do decide on Denver I'd be more than willing to offer you some work at the Post ..."

"You would?" asked Brian, his eyes opening wide in surprise.

"Certainly I would," returned Mr Proctor. "You have a natural talent ... and I'd like to play a part in its development ..."

Brian turned to Michaela, his face aglow with delight. "Whatdya think ma?' he asked eagerly. "I could study an' work at the same time ..."

She smiled proudly. "Its up to you Brian ... but its certainly worth considering ...," she said, casting a grateful look at the editor.

Meanwhile, William who had been sitting relatively quietly in his high chair picking at small pieces of pie apple with his fingers, suddenly demanded some attention. As Michaela leant across to clean off his hands and lift him down, the editor eased his chair back. "It was a delightful and enlightening meal Dr Quinn ... Brian ... but I don't want to outstay my welcome ... I should be heading back to town ... You doubtless have things to do ..." He glanced across at Katie who was sitting playing by the fireplace, her toys strewn untidily all around her.

Michaela chuckled. "There is always something to be done," she said. "But please ... feel free to stay as long as you wish ... Brian has a large number of stories I'm sure he'd be delighted to show you ..."

"Oh ma," Brian protested embarrassedly. "I wrote them when I was a kid ..."

Mr Proctor and Michaela exchanged amused glances, then the editor stood. "Thank-you for your hospitality, but I must be going," he said with a smile.

"I'll drive ya back inta town Mr Proctor," Brian offered. "Then maybe we can talk some more huh?"

Both adults smiled indulgently, then the editor walked across to the hook and took down his bowler hat.

*******************
"Mornin' Dr McLeod," said Loren as he walked past the clinic. She was outside, sweeping the porch. Then he stopped and informed her with an amiable smile, "All that stuff you ordered yesterday ... It should arrive on tomorrow's train from Denver ..."

"That's wonderful Mr Bray," she said at once. "Thank-you for doing it straight away ..."

"That's what ya wanted," he returned with a shrug. "Ah ... I was wonderin' ... you expectin' guests or somethin'?'

She paused in her sweeping and met his eye. "What makes you say that?' she asked noncommittally.

"Seems like a lot o' stuff for just one lady ... I aint pryin' or anything ... I was just wondering ..."

"I'm setting up a new home Loren," said Anna carefully. "There was only so much I could bring ..."

"Of course ... I understand that," he said, slightly chastened. "Like I said ... it'll arrive tomorrow ..."

"Thank-you ... I look forward to it ... and I'll pay you for it all as soon as it arrives," she said with a smile.'

Realising he was not going to learn any more, he doffed his hat and continued on to the café."

********************
It was late in the afternoon when Anna heard the sound of a number of horses passing the clinic window and then heavy footsteps on the porch. A loud rap on the door had her opening it quickly. Her eyes widened with alarm when she spied a pale and injured Hank on the doorstep. Although he was doing his best to remain upright on his own, she didn't miss Sully's supporting hand at his side. "What happened?" she exclaimed. "Is everyone else alright? Did you find them?" She stood back so they could precede her into the clinic.

"Hank's the only one hurt," Sully replied. "Cept Jake's got a bump on his head. He an' Robert E have taken the two fellas across to the jail ... they're gonna organise some men ta watch 'em til the marshall arrives ..." He assisted Hank up onto the examination table and asked, "Michaela's not here?"

She shook her head. "She left early ... she's probably home by now ..."

He nodded and added, "You alright now Hank? I'd like ta get home ..."

The barkeep waved him away. "Course I'm alright ... only a cut ... You git goin' ..."

Sully met Anna's eyes. "You need any help?" he asked.

She smiled. "Its only a gash ... I'm sure I can manage ... Michaela is looking forward to seeing you ..."

Sully nodded his thanks and hurriedly left.

For one awkward moment Anna regarded the injured man before her, then took a deep breath and gently assisted him to ease off his coat. She looked up into his eyes. "The shirt has to go I'm afraid," she said quietly.

He nodded. "Aint any use ta me now," he rejoined. "After what that fella did to it ..."

"He had a knife?" she asked, gently tearing the fabric and peeling the shirt back off his shoulders.

"Uh huh ... we got him though," Hank returned proudly.

She examined the deep cut. "It'll have to be washed and stitched," she said, tenderly running her fingers in a line under the wound. "There's no sign of infection though ... that's good ..."

For once, Hank was bereft of words. Her voice was so soft, her touch so gentle. He watched her walk across to the washstand and thoroughly cleanse her hands. He wondered whether she had any idea of her effect on him. She quickly collected together the things she needed and returned to his side. She tipped something from a bottle onto a clean cloth, then ever so gently began to wash away the dried blood. He bit his lip and tried not to gasp as the liquid caused a fire in the wound that made his stomach turn and beads of sweat to break out on his brow. She peered up at him, smiled reassuringly, and then continued with her work.

**********************
Sully quietly pushed the homestead door open and entered. Katie, sitting on the floor playing with her doll by one of the wingback chairs, saw him first. "Papa!" she squealed, getting to her feet and running across the room toward him. Unfortunately on her way she tripped on the edge of the rug and sprawled on the floor face down. Her face crumpled and she peered up at him forlornly. He took a step towards her and held out his arms and she abruptly forgot her banged knee. She clambered up and leapt exuberantly into his embrace. He swept her up and held her close, while she wrapped her arms lovingly around his neck.

Meanwhile Michaela, who had been standing at the stove stirring the beginnings of supper, heard her tiny daughter's exclamation and spun around to see her beloved husband standing just inside the door. Her heart leapt in unison with Katie's leap into his arms. She swallowed and bit her lip, a wave of emotion overcoming her for a moment before she started towards him.

Her movement caught Sully's attention and his eyes immediately met hers. He smiled and held out his hand to her. She hurried across the room and wrapped her arms around both husband and daughter. At last she managed to whisper, "I missed you ..."

"Me too papa," added Katie in his other ear.

Michaela pulled back a little, her eyes raking his form. "You're alright?" she asked, almost fearfully.

"I'm fine," he replied with a smile.

"And the others?"

"Hank got cut with a knife ... Anna's lookin' after him now ... Jake's got a bump on his head ... but he's alright ... no concussion or anythin' ..."

Michaela frowned. "You checked?" she asked.

He nodded. "Knew what you'd say if I didn'," he grinned.

She gave him a wry smile. "And the train robbers?" she asked.

"We got 'em ... took us a while ... an' one of 'em fought pretty hard when we did find 'em ... but they're in the town jail ... Jake an' Robert E organised some fellas ta watch 'em ..."

She sighed with relief. She reached up and gently caressed his jawline with her fingertips. "You've got whiskers again," she commented lovingly.

He reached up and ran his hand over the stubble. "I'll get rid of 'em tonight," he said with a secretive smile.

"You don't have to ... you must be terribly tired ... I don't mind ... really ..."

"Aint so tired as hungry," he said peering into the kitchen.

"My stew!" she exclaimed, rushing to the stove.

He watched her with amusement as she whisked the pan from the heat and frantically stirred its contents. She looked across at him. "I think it'll be alright," she said hopefully.

He nodded and asked, "Where's William?"

She chuckled. "He fell asleep on the wagon ride home ... and even you coming back hasn't disturbed him ... He's on the floor, by the fireplace ...," she explained.

Sully nodded, and with his daughter still in his arms, walked across the room to one of the wingback chairs. As he did, Katie reached up to stroke his beard as Michaela had done. She grimaced. "It prickles," she giggled.

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "I know," he said softly. "I don' think ya ma likes it too much." He grabbed her hand and ran it across the stubble. "You like it Kates?"

She screwed up her face and giggled again, then shook her head. He smiled, then sat down in the chair, Katie on his knee, to watch his tiny son sleep.

********************
"How's that?" Sully asked, turning away from the bedroom dresser, his face now clean shaven and gleaming with cologne.

"Wonderful," she returned softly, her smile unintentionally seductive. She was sitting up in bed, an open book on her knees. She wasn't going to let on that she hadn't read a word, but had been watching him all the time he was washing and shaving.

He casually removed his buckskin breeches, walked around the bed and climbed in. "You gonna read that all night?" he inquired, a hint of teasing in his tone.

"It's a very good book," she rejoined defensively.

"Uh huh," he murmured, sidling a little closer.

"It is," she stressed.

"So ... are ya gonna read it now ... or maybe leave it for another time?"

She bit her lip and turned her head to look down into his twinkling eyes. "Perhaps another time," she returned huskily.

He smiled. "Sounds like a good plan."

Without further ado, she closed the book, placed it on the nightstand and slid down to be instantly encircled by his arms and held close. "This is what I miss when you're away," she said softly. She lovingly kissed his chest and wrapped her arm around him.

"You do huh?"

"Mmm ... very much ... "

He lovingly kissed the top of her head, then turned onto his side so he could meet her eyes. For a long time no words were spoken, but much was said through their eyes and expressions, then their loving touches and caresses.

After a time Michaela raised her hand and tenderly cupped his face. "You must be so tired," she murmured. "We don't have to go any further ... you holding me is enough ... for tonight ..."

In response his hand slid in under the hem of her nightgown and ever so slowly moved caressingly up her thigh, over her stomach to cup her breast. "You sure?" he whispered.

She gulped and nodded. "I was so worried about you," she murmured.

He edged even closer and began to place light kisses on her mouth, starting at the corners and moving inward. "I missed you too," he softly sighed.

She took a deep breath, then willingly opened her mouth to his for a long, intense, loving kiss. "Oh God Sully," she murmured between kisses as he rolled towards her and lifted his leg to envelop her. She clung to him, all her energy now focussed on her husband's wonderful loving. At last he joined them as one and just for a moment all was quiet and still, the calm before the magnificent storm, as they absorbed each other's energy and intensity. Then, perfectly attuned, they began to move in their familiar and exciting dance of love until each was fully satisfied, their desire exhausted, for now.

Michaela lay against Sully's chest, her breathing deep and ragged. At last she said softly, "I think the Cheyenne were right ..."

His hand continued to move beneath her nightgown, touching, caressing, all those places only he knew. "About what?" he rejoined.

She peered up at him, her skin still aglow. "You once told me ... that ... that the Cheyenne believe man and woman were once one ... and that they continually try to become one again ... I ... I think they're right ..." She swallowed and added softly, "At least in our case ..."

He smiled indulgently and returned, "I *know* they're right ... When I'm away I can't stop thinkin' about ya ... an' when I'm here ... I gotta touch ya ... love ya .."

She eased up and kissed him deeply. "I feel the same way," she said adoringly. "Welcome home Sully ..."

Continued ...