Chapter 33

She sat tensely staring into the fire, all notion of sleep gone. Around her were the usual night noises, but no footsteps, no voices, nothing. Every nerve in her body was tensed for the rifle shot she feared would come at any moment.  She could not even surmise the reason for the one shot they'd heard earlier, but her imagination was beginning to run wild. Sully seemed to have been gone for hours and she longed for his return. In reality it had probably been only fifteen to twenty minutes but it felt like hours. Why was it that the air seemed colder and her wooded surroundings more alien when Sully was not at her side? She pulled the blanket more securely around her shoulders and huddled closer to the fire to continue the anxious wait.

It was perhaps another fifteen minutes before she heard heavy rustling in the undergrowth and then Sully emerged into the firelight once again. She sighed with relief. "What was it?" she asked anxiously. "Are you alright?"

There was a barely perceptible pause, then he nodded and sat down beside her. "It was him," he said in a low tone.

"Deeg?"

"Uh huh ..."

"What was he shooting at?"

Sully picked up a stick and prodded at the dying embers of the fire. He did not reply.

"Sully?" she prompted, puzzled.

He straightened. "It don' matter now Michaela ... Time we got some sleep," he advised, deliberately removing his jacket and edging down onto his bedroll.

She frowned, then hesitantly tried again, "Sully?"

"Aint ya tired?" he rejoined, looking up at her. "Its bin a long day ..." He quickly lowered his eyes when he perceived the hurt in hers. To make amends, he patted the bedroll close beside him. "Come on," he said softly.

She hesitated a moment, puzzled by his odd behaviour, strangely unsure of this man she loved so dearly, then she quietly lay down on her back beside him, pulling the blankets up over both of them. She waited, expecting he might say something, anything. When he did not, she closed her eyes. Her mind was whirling. At last, unable to bear the distance between them, she rolled onto her side, rested her head on his chest and wrapped her arm around him. She was surprised when he immediately pulled her closer and buried his face in her hair. She knew him so well, so very well, and she knew something was wrong. While he attempted to make things appear normal by gently caressing her arm and shoulder, she was aware of an unaccustomed tension in his body, in his loving hand.

She tucked her hand inside his shirt to stroke his skin and murmured softly, "I wish you'd tell me what happened Sully ..."

He took a deep breath but did not reply.

She continued the reassuring caresses and posed, "Is Deeg alright?" Abruptly his chest stopped moving up and down and his entire body tensed. She raised herself up on her elbow and peered down into his face. His jaw was clenched and his eyes closed. "Sully?" she queried with concern. "Is Deeg alright?"

He turned his face away from her gaze and at last rejoined in a tone so low she could barely hear it, "He's dead Michaela ..."

She sat bolt upright and exclaimed, "Dead?" She threw the blankets back and began to rise.

He grasped her arm, stopping her. "What are ya doin'?" he queried brusquely.

"I have to go to him," she explained, trying to pull from his grasp.

"There's nothin' you can do," he said.

"But I'm a doctor ..."

"An' as a doctor there's nothin' you can do for him now ..."

"But Sully ..."

"There's nothin' we can do before mornin' ... I covered him up ... That's all anyone could do ..."

Her shoulders slumped and she dropped her head into her hands. Sully watched her with concern. At last she commented resignedly, "You could see it coming this afternoon ... He was so ill ... He didn't have long ..." Sully remained silent. She continued, "I wish we could have done something for him ... Its times like these I feel so helpless ..." Again Sully maintained his silence though his eyes narrowed. Then a thought occurred to her and she raised her eyes to his. "But the gunshot Sully ... What was that?"

He swallowed and had difficulty meeting her eyes.

"Sully?" she prompted.

"It was him," he finally told her.

Her brow furrowed. "What was he shooting at?" she asked, confused. Then as realisation came to her, her eyes widened in horror. "You mean?...."

He lowered his eyes and grasped her hand.

"He shot himself!" she exclaimed in disbelief.

"Rifle was by his side ..."

"But why?"

"Maybe he couldn' stand bein' sick no more ..." She ran her hands agitatedly through her hair, prompting him to add, "You could see this afternoon ... he wasn' thinkin' straight ...."

She took a deep breath and turned fearful, distressed eyes on him. "What if our coming here ... what if that's what made him do it? ... He kept saying he wasn't going back ..."

"Like I said ... he wasn' thinkin' straight ...."

"But I'm supposed to preserve life Sully ... not end it ..."

"You didn' end it ... He did ..."

She shook her head. "Could prison be so horrifying that he would kill himself rather than return to it?" she decried tearfully. "And why did he do it now? ... Was it because we came here?"

"I guess we'll never know ..."

"But what if it was?

Sully sat up and gently turned her face so he could look into her shimmering eyes. "Like I said ... we'll never know ... you came here to help him ..."

"And he ended up dead ..."

"That had nothin' ta do with you ..."

"But what if it did?"

He sighed. "An' we come back ta the same question we'll never have the answer to ..."

A single tear slowly ran down her cheek. "I can't help it Sully," she murmured plaintively. "I can't stand to think that his death had something to do with me ..."

He drew her close in against his chest, knowing there was no way he could truly allay her doubts. "Ya gotta remember ya came here ta help him," he murmured reassuringly. "Ya gotta remember that ..."

*****************
Loren lay the newspaper down on the table and declared, "Well that's the whole article ... Brian's talented aint he? Can't believe he got printed in the Denver Post ..."

The Reverend nodded. "Its hard to believe he's not yet sixteen ... his writing about Red Fox shows amazing maturity ..."

"I guess he's bin through a lot in his life ... makes ya grow up fast I reckon ..."

"That's true ... but then he's a bright boy anyway ... Dorothy certainly shows a great amount of faith in him ... leavin' him to run the Gazette ..."

Loren nodded and then gave a verbal grunt in reply. It was second nature to him now after living with the Reverend's blindness these past few years.  "It's a big job for a kid Brian's age ..."

The Reverend nodded in agreement and then mused, "I wonder if I could persuade Faith to read this article."

Loren's eyebrows shot up and he ventured with a grin, "So its Faith now is it?"

The Reverend grimaced with embarrassment. "She asked me to call her that," he explained.

"Oh she did, did she ..."

"Yes, she did ..."

Loren chuckled. "Thought there were some sparks between you two ..."

The Reverend shook his head. "Faith O'Connell has a long, long way to go before she starts thinking about the future ...," he said quietly. "She's still mourning the loss of her husband and son .." 

"I know that," admonished Loren. "But there's somethin' between you two ... I can tell ..."

"Well don't tell anyone else ... the last thing Faith needs is any gossiping," chided the Reverend with a small smile. He leant forward a little and said conspiratorially,  "I love those children of hers though ... I always wanted children of my own ..."

Loren nodded. "I know it," he said with understanding. "Maybe this is your chance hmmm?"

The Reverend shrugged. "We'll have to wait and see," he replied noncommittally.

Loren chuckled, then perceiving his friend's discomfort, returned to the previous discussion, "Course Mrs O'Connell might not see what Brian wants her to see if she reads this ..."

"I know ... but it would be a step forward for her if she was to read it at all ..."

"Course ... she might never get over it ... Might never be able ta look at an indian without thinkin' of her husband an' how he died ... an' that's gonna make it hard for her ... livin' here I reckon ...," mused Loren. "Why only the other day when I was in Denver ... I saw an indian git off the train ... right there in the middle of town ..."

"Times are changing Loren ..."

"Yeah ... but is it for the better? An' folks like Mrs O'Connell got too many memories ..."

"Of a man who's dead now ... Red Fox isn' gonna hurt her or her family again ..."

Loren shook his head. "There'll still be reminders for her ... all the time ..."

"Then its up to people like us to help her to recover from what happened to her ... Maybe Cloud Dancing has a role in that ..."

Loren raised his eyebrows in surprise. "She aint gonna ever listen to Cloud Dancin' ... I've seen her turn her back when he comes near ..."

"I know ... but in time ...."

Loren regarded the Reverend dubiously. "Some things don't heal with time ..."

"Like the way you look at Sully? Seems to me there's been a big change there ..."

Loren grimaced. "Yeah ... well ..."

"So perhaps Faith will see things differently in the future," the Reverend concluded.

"Mmm ... maybe," rejoined Loren, though his doubt was evident in his tone. He abruptly stood, yawned and stretched. "Its gettin' real late .. an' I gotta be up early ... expectin' a shipment in ..."

The Reverend stood, nodded his understanding and they headed up the stairs to their respective rooms.

*********************
She woke with a start, sat up and rubbed at her heavy eyes. It was still dark, although there was a hint of dawn light behind the mountain. She felt as if she'd barely slept which in truth was correct, her mind had been whirling with the news of the strange man Deeg's death.  As Sully again called out in his sleep she realised what had woken her. She watched him for a moment, uncertain. When he suddenly tensed and called urgently, "Ma ... no!!!", she gasped, then leant towards him, placed her hand on his sweaty chest and said quietly but firmly, "Sully ... wake up ... Its alright ... you're dreaming ..." He shook his head violently from side to side and thrust his arms upward defensively. Her voice took on a sterner tone. "Sully ... wake up," she insisted. "Its alright." He groaned, then opened one eye cautiously, suspiciously. She grasped his hand and said quietly, "You were dreaming." He groaned again and rolled onto his side, away from her.

"Sully?" she queried softly.  When he did not reply she asked again, "Sully? Are you alright?"

He took a deep breath and replied in a low tone, "Like you said ... It was just a dream ... Go back to sleep ..."

"I can't when I'm worried about you ..."

"Nothin' ta worry about ..." 

"You're certain?"

"Uh huh ... now get some more sleep before the sun comes up ..."

Pensively, she regarded him for a moment. She knew, or at least could guess, what the dream had been about. She shivered, remembering those terrible few days more than a year ago when Sully had relived the death of his mother and had almost not come through it.  There were times when she could only wonder how he had emerged from his troubled and difficult early years as a caring and loving adult. She had been dreading seeing Deeg in the cold hard light of day, but Sully had already seen him, shortly after he had died at his own hand, and the nightmare had been the result.

She sighed softly, then slid down under the blankets and spooned herself into his back as he so often did when she needed holding. She slid her hand beneath his bent arm and rested it reassuringly against his heart. He said nothing, but a gentle, loving hand clasped hers tightly and gently raised it to his lips.

**********************
Sully slowly straightened and then arched his aching back. Despite the coolness of the mountain air his shirt clung to his sweaty skin and his hair stuck to his nape and forehead. He reached for the canteen of water by his feet and slaked his thirst heartily, then surveyed his efforts.

Some fifteen yards from the makeshift cabin now lie a neat, if rather rudimentary, grave covered with small rocks and branches to deter wild animals from digging in the freshly turned earth. 

All the long while he'd been working he'd fought the horrible images that crowded his mind - of the shockingly disfigured man as he lay dead on the cabin floor in a pool of thick drying blood. He'd seen dead men before, but somehow this man's death had affected him more than most. He tried to tell himself Deeg hadn't really known what he was doing, but still he couldn't overcome the notion that the act had been calculated and decided upon long before he and Michaela had made this ill-fated journey into the mountains.

He glanced across at his wife who was sitting on the ground outside the makeshift cabin, her back up against the rough hewn wall. Like he, she hadn't been able to stand the smell of death inside and had retreated into the sunshine. She'd been very quiet since first seeing Deeg this morning and Sully was worried about her. He feared she still blamed herself for the man's death and he wasn't sure he'd be able to convince her otherwise.

She'd wanted to help him with the grave but that, as far as he was concerned, was man's work, so she'd tried to clean up the cabin a little. The pools of dry blood on the dirt floor were now covered by flour sacks and threadbare blankets.

Since their rather sombre lunch a while back she'd been engrossed in some sort of book she'd found inside. He'd watched her surreptitiously for some time and she hadn't raised her head once. At last, unable to contain his curiosity any longer he strolled casually towards her. Stopping only a few feet from her, he waited for her to acknowledge his presence. When she did not, he cleared his throat and said quietly, "Michaela?" Her head flew up and she squinted into the strong, early afternoon sun. "What ya readin'?" he asked. Her eyes dropped to the book in her lap and she ran her fingers gently over the small, neat hand-written script. To his surprise she closed the book and awkwardly stood. Only when she could look him in the eyes, did she hold the book out towards him and say solemnly, "His name was David James Parrish and he wasn't an escaped prisoner Sully ... far from it ..."

He frowned and took the leather bound journal from her. "He wasn't?' he queried, puzzled by her solemnity.

She shook her head. "No he wasn't ... perhaps you'd better read what I've read while I make some coffee ..." And with that she strode away towards their campsite, leaving him standing by the cabin, unopened book in hand.

Chapter 34

Michaela left Sully alone with the mysterious journal for more than half an hour, hoping that his curiosity would compel him to open it and begin reading. She had been profoundly moved by its contents and knew Sully would feel the same, perhaps even more so. As she stepped into the clearing she was pleased to see that he was indeed reading. He was sitting in the position she had occupied until recently and was completely engrossed in the writer's words. It wasn't until she was standing at his feet that he noticed her and looked up, his brow creased, his eyes suspiciously bright. She handed him the steaming tin cup of coffee and then sat down beside him, her back up against the cabin wall. "So?" she said softly.

He closed the journal and shook his head incredulously. "The spirits led us here didn' they?" he murmured. "All the while I thought we were on a wild goose chase ... but they meant us ta be here ..."

She hooked her arm with his and leant her head against his shoulder. "They say fate works in mysterious ways Sully," she said soberly. "I suppose this is just another example that bears the adage out ..."

He nodded and took a deep breath before once again opening the book, this time back at the beginning as if he wanted to share all it had to say with Michaela. Into the silence of the wilderness around them he began to read aloud.

"At last freedom. It seems a strange thing to write when I know that I will be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, but that is how I feel. I have wanted this for so long. The events of these past few weeks served to intensify my growing desire to leave my post, to put distance between myself and the inhumane, disgusting role I have had to play out over these last months. I was going to write 'forced' to play, but now I am not so sure. Can a man be forced to commit inhuman acts? Is there not free will even when one has willingly assumed a subservient role?

And so here I now sit amidst these magnificent Rockie mountains. I saw them last year, from a distance. They aroused such mixed emotions within me that I knew I must return. They are my haven, my refuge.

I know they will follow me. I know that if I am found, I will be hung. A traitor? I think not. However that is the way I will be regarded. For myself, being considered a traitor by those who have taken the law into their own hands, by those who consider murder to be a duty, I can live with. I will be forever ashamed of my actions in the line of duty, despite the fact that they will be considered heroic by the uninformed. The massacre at the Washita will haunt me for what remains of my life. I cannot close my eyes without seeing those terrified faces, those brown eyes looking up at me, filled with fear. I will never rest easy again. My soul will never find peace. I can only pray that God will forgive me my sins."

Sully paused and took a deep breath. His hands, holding the journal, were trembling. Michaela reassuringly caressed his arm and he continued.

"Sometimes I think I dreamed what happened. Or perhaps it is wishful thinking - to hope that I did not actually have a hand in such atrocities. To know that I participated in something so horrific, so despicable, is unbearable.

For some months I had been trying to convince myself that the eradication of indian raiding parties, of indian braves who intended harm to my colleagues and other American citizens could be justified. I realise now that I was fooling myself. Small bands trapping food for their families offered little danger to us or anyone else.

Then came the Washita.

Following Custer's orders, we continued along the banks of the Washita for several days. He knew that we would eventually come across the Cheyenne camp, although he had not apprised us of the fact. At nightfall on the fifth day we saw the spirals of smoke rising in the cool air and knew they were only a short distance ahead of us. It was then that Custer issued his orders. We would wait until dawn and then attack. Our scouts had reported that the band was made up of predominantly old men, women and children and so some of us expressed surprise at his orders. These concerns were quickly rebuffed. We would follow orders or be court-martialled. I had seen what Custer could do in the past.  I knew this was not an idle threat. I now feel such shame that I did not follow my heart and rebel, rather than participate in the next morning's events.

It was over swiftly, with few injuries to my fellow soldiers. Around us lay the slain - men, women and children alike, some with macabre, startled expressions etched on their lifeless faces. The smell of death will stay with me forever. I was ordered to ensure that all were dead. Not one indian was to be left with a breath in their body. I could barely make them out through my unshed tears. How could I be a part of this? Custer and most of the others rode out, leaving just two of us to finish their dirty work.

I am proud of what I did next, if one can feel proud for leaving women and children alone, wounded, to die there in the wilderness.

There was a woman, perhaps just a little older than my own mother. She was a short distance apart from the others, by the river. I knew she was badly injured, her breathing was laboured. I looked back at Private Nelson who was on the other side of the clearing. I dropped my canteen by her side and moved on to the next body. A little further on was the old man. I couldn't help thinking that he had lived a long life only to have it needlessly ended by a soldier's bullet. His eyes flickered for a moment then the life drained out of him. I couldn't breath.

It was the baby that was my undoing. Its big brown eyes looked up at me, but it made no sound. I don't know if it was injured. It lay almost entirely covered by the body of its big brother, a boy of perhaps ten or eleven years. A boy, who had undoubtedly given his own life so that the baby could live. It is the baby's eyes I see whenever I close my own. They haunt me. I could do nothing but leave the child there and pray that its end would be peaceful."

Again Sully paused, blinded by his tears. In despair, he turned to regard Michaela for a moment, and then the sorrow, the overwhelming, previously buried grief, was unleashed in deep, heart-wrenching sobs that filled the air to be carried away on the wind.

***********************
"Hey Matthew ... look at this," called Kathleen across the room to where her young husband stood gazing out the window.

He spun around to observe his tiny baby brother swaying precariously on his feet in front of Kathleen, his hands firmly held in hers. He broke into a wide smile. "Growing fast aint he," he remarked, striding across the room to sit himself beside them on the floor.

Kathleen nodded. "He certainly is ... won't be too much longer before he takes his first step ..."

Matthew reached out and lovingly grasped William's hand. "Time goes by so quick," he said. "Won't be long an' we'll have a baby of our own ta worry about ..." He turned adoring eyes on his wife and then gently placed his hand over her swollen stomach. "I remember when Dr Mike was expectin' Katie it seemed ta take forever ... but with William ... an' this little one ... well ... its goin' by so fast ..."

Kathleen nodded, overwhelmed by what was happening to her. She bit her lip and turned shining eyes on her husband.  "I can't believe all this Matthew," she said in a reverent tone.

He smiled indulgently and kissed her on the cheek. "Believe it honey," he murmured against her ear. Then, as William, demanding some attention, clambered into her lap and grabbed at the fine gold chain around her neck, he added, "If lookin' after Katie an' William ever gets too much for ya ... especially these next few months ... you make sure ta say ... won't ya ..."

She gave him a wry smile. "I'll be careful ... but I couldn't ever give up looking after these two ... I feel like they're my own ..."

Matthew frowned and then his eyes went to the front window of their homestead, from which they could see the mountains in the distance. "Wonder when they'll be back," he mused. "Been two full days already ..."

"You're worried about them aren't you?' she suggested softly.

"Not up there," he replied at once.  "Sully's more at home up there than he is in town ... but its when they get home I'm worried about ..."

"The reports in the newspaper?"

He nodded. "Uh huh ... things are gettin' worse in the indian territory ... I know Sully'll want ta go up there ..."

"And Michaela won't want him to," she concluded resignedly.

Again he nodded. "She knows what can happen when the army steps in ... an' it looks like that's gonna happen ... I don' think she could stand not knowin' what was happenin' to him ... like last time ..."

"Perhaps she'll want to go with him?"

"Maybe ... but it'd mean bein' away from the kids again ..."

"We'll take good care of them ..."

"I know that ... but she hates bein' away from them for very long ..."

"Well whatever happens ... all we can do is support them ... I know what the Cheyenne mean to Sully ..." 

"Yeah .. especially Cloud Dancin' an' Miss Dorothy ..."

Her eyes opened wide. "You don't think they're in any danger?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "Never can tell when the army's around ... but they'll take care ... Cloud Dancin's bin through this before ..."

She sighed. "It must be awful for him ... experiencing it all over again ... Life must be a continual battle ..."

Matthew nodded. "It is ... for all the Cheyenne ..." He grasped her hand. "Thank-you for understandin' ..."

"I've seen you all with Cloud Dancing remember ... and I know what he means to Dorothy ... and Sully and Michaela ... He's family ..."

"Yeah ... he is," agreed Matthew, standing and wandering back across to the window to observe the sun gradually sinking behind the majestic mountains in the distance.

***********************
"Its getting cold," murmured Michaela, wrapping her arms around herself and tucking her chilled hands under her armpits. The sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains and they were still sitting outside Deeg's cabin, the journal open in front of them.

As if awakening from a dream, Sully raised his eyes and turned to face her. "Didn' realise it was so late," he remarked before gazing up into the clear, almost transparent sky.

"Our focus has been elsewhere Sully," she returned wryly.

For the first time in hours he smiled at her.  "I guess so," he agreed. He glanced down at the open journal. "Sure have learnt a lot," he mused. "The way this Parrish fella wrote ... well ... makes ya think ..."

Michaela nodded. "Yes it does ... He was an educated man Sully ... Do you remember those cadets we met at the White House a few years ago? One of them showed some interest in Colleen? He reminds me of one of those young men ... well educated ... joining the army too see America ... idealistic ... unaware if what really goes on ... until they come out here and are ordered to fight the indians ..."

Sully gave her a wry look. "Some of 'em like that ..."

She nodded. "And some of them don't ... Remember the young sergeant and the typhus infected blankets for the indians? I thought perhaps even Sergeant McKay was uneasy in his role ...," she mused.

"An' then there are the O'Connors of the world ... Its men like him I think of when I think of the army ..."

"There are good and bad in every race ... in every profession ... Consider Red Fox ..."

Sully nodded resignedly. He held up the journal. "What do we do with this? Leave it here?"

Michaela frowned. "Perhaps we should send it to his family ... he wrote he was from Pennsylvania ... They probably have no idea of where he's been since he deserted ...," she suggested. "Unless a trapper moves into the cabin the weather will eventually destroy all that's here ... His family needs to see his journal ..."

 "*If* we can find 'em ..."

"We can try .."

"Yeah ... I guess we can try ..."

I'm glad he wrote something about his family ... his education ... his early years in the army ... I feel I know him now ..." She paused and then turned to Sully. "Do you realise he was barely thirty years old? When we saw him yesterday he looked an old man ..."

"He was real sick," reasoned Sully.

"Yes, he was ... but I believe his experiences probably aged him prematurely ... I can't imagine having such guilt, such memories weighing on me all day every day ..." She pulled herself awkwardly to her feet, her limbs stiff from the inactivity and cold. "Do you think he'd mind if Brian read it before we send it to his family?" she ventured, extending her hand to help him up.

"Brian?" he queried as he straightened.

"Mmm ... I was thinking of the article he wrote about Red Fox ... He seems to be able to see both sides when so many others can't ... He would benefit from reading Mr Parrish's journal ..."

Sully shrugged. "I guess," he returned. "Long as he knows he can't publish any o' it ... at least without Parrish's family's permission ..."

"He'll understand ... but I'm sure he'll want to read it ... It will add a different perspective to his understanding ..."

Sully nodded, then suggested hesitantly, "I was thinkin' ... well ... before we go back to our campsite ... maybe you'd like ta ... well ... say somethin' at Parrish's grave?"

Her shining eyes met his. "Of course," she replied. "It would be most appropriate ... as long as you'll stand beside me ..."

He smiled. "No other place I'd rather be ...," he returned, reaching out to take her hand. In the pink tinged light of the early evening, the two of them made their way across to the newly dug grave and stood silently side by side for several moments, each lost in their own contemplation of the life of a man they never knew.

***********************
Hank drew the wagon to a halt in front of the saloon and jumped down just as Anna McLeod emerged from the clinic opposite. She turned to lock the door behind her and then glanced across to see Hank brushing dust from his trousers and shirt. He looked  up and waved, then made his way across to her. "Closin' up?" he asked, unconsciously straightening his loose tie and tucking his shirt into his waistband.

She nodded and sighed. "Its been a long day," she said.  "Mrs Burnett had her baby early this morning and I had to go out to the Chateau clinic to see a few patients this afternoon."

Hank glanced up at the pulled curtains of the clinic. "So where are Jamie and Lucille?"

She smiled. "They're out at Matthew and Kathleen's this. We're all having supper together."

He nodded. "So you're headin' out there now?"

"After I've been across to the mercantile." She looked over in the direction of the saloon. "I don't think I've ever seen you use a wagon before," she mused.

He shrugged. "Had ta deliver some lumber out o' town ..."

She chuckled. "You working for Robert E now?"

He gave her a wry smile. "It was *my* lumber," he rejoined.  

She frowned. "And you were delivering it *out* of town?" she queried.

He dropped his eyes to the dirt road. "Got a project I'm workin' on," he said quietly.

"You have? What is it?" she asked, then added hastily, "I'm sorry ... its none of my business."

He tucked his thumbs in his waistband and grinned at her discomfort. "I aint worried ... When there's more done, I'll take you out there ta see it ... if you'd like ta come?"

"I'd love to ... You have me intrigued Hank Lawson," she replied. "I can't imagine what you'd be working on when your business is in town .."

He shrugged self-consciously. "Guess a man starts ta think o' other things when he gets older," he remarked ambiguously.

"Now you have me even more intrigued ... Are you thinking of taking up ranching?" she asked, tongue in cheek.

He smiled wryly. "Can ya really see me doin' that?" he questioned.

She shrugged. "I don't know you well enough yet to know what you might do," she returned.

"That might change over time," he suggested boldly.

This time *she* dropped her eyes to the dusty road. "It might," she murmured in reply. "Over time ..."

Deciding this conversation had gone as far as it should, for now, Hank suggested, "You better head across to the mercantile ... Loren'll be closin' soon ..."

She nodded, relieved. "Yes, he will," she replied. "Sun's going down."

"Uh huh ... an' I got a saloon ta run ... Now don' forget ... one day, you're gonna ride out with me ta see what I'm workin' on ..."

She nodded. "I won't forget Hank," she rejoined. "As I said you have me intrigued." With that, she gave him a smile that made his heart skip a beat and headed up the street away from him.

***********************
The crackling of the fire and the occasional hoot of a marauding owl were all that could be heard in the clearing high up in the mountains. Enveloped in the intense blackness of the night, Michaela and Sully sat side by side, staring into the flames, only dregs remaining in the coffee cups they still held in their hands. A rustling in a bush behind her made Michaela jump and then smile wryly. Sully, lost in thought, didn't even notice.

Michaela, never one to stay silent for long, finally turned to him and asked quietly, "What are you thinking about?"

He started from his reverie and then shrugged. "Nothin' much," he replied.

"Must be something ... you were a thousand miles away ..."

"I was?"

"Mmmm ... So what was occupying your mind?"

"I guess it was that Parrish fella ..."

"He was on my mind too ..."

"Made me think ...," he muttered self-consciously.

"Oh?"

"I guess it was always easy ta blame the army ... the government ... for everythin' ... I didn' think about the men ... the individual soldiers like Parrish ... Just figured they all liked what they were doin' ... Custer an' Chivington were the leaders ... *they* were the army ... or that's how I thought of 'em ..."

Michaela hung her head. "I did the same I suppose ..."

He turned to her in surprise. "Ya did?!"

"In a way ... Occasionally I had the opportunity to see them as individuals ... that buffalo soldier we helped ... or McKay ... but most of the time they were the faceless adversary ..."

"Enemy .."

"At times ... " She sighed. "I don't much like myself for it ... but ..."

"But it was easy ta lump 'em all together like that ...," he concluded ashamedly. "Just like white folks who don' know the indians ... they lump them all together too ..."

She nodded then edged across so she was close beside him and hooked her arm through his. "In some ways it doesn't change much," she said softly. "Except that I feel sorry for any man who finds himself in the same situation as David Parrish. I imagine there are many indians who have done the same ... joined raiding parties or dog soldiers ... not realising their intended actions ... thinking only of the big picture ... the mission ...."

"Ta keep their own safe an' happy ... They both have the same aim ... but somewhere along the way the aim gets lost ... Too much hate ... resentment ..."

"Intolerance of people who are different ...," added Michaela. "David Parrish didn't realise until he was in a situation where he was forced to look at the enemy as individuals ... He bore no grudge against a ten year old child and a frightened baby ..."

Sully nodded and his shoulders slumped. "I think in some ways I deliberately stayed away from the soldiers ... even avoided learnin' their names ...   its easier that way ..."

"Then you don't have to know them, just hate their actions ... their intent ..."

He nodded. "Guess it's the government ... the army generals I should hate ... but the soldiers are doin' their dirty work ... an' let's face it ... some of 'em *do* like what they're doin' ..."

"Perhaps ... but now at least we know that some don't ... that there is some compassion amongst them ..."

"Don't alter the fact that the indians are bein' wiped out ..."

"No it doesn't ..."

"Wonder how Cloud Dancin' an' Dorothy are doin'?"

Michaela sighed. "It was such a beautiful place ... those plains and woods ... Our time in the northern territory is a memory I'll cherish forever ... I almost envy them being there ..." 

"We'll go back one day ..."

"I hope so ..."

"If the government lets 'em stay ... We know what's happened before ..."

Michaela nodded resignedly.  "Cloud Dancing certainly has ... I'm sure they're making the most of the peace ... for now ..."

Sully nodded. "Yeah ... that's the way ya gotta look at it ... aint it ..." He gazed up into the star-filled sky. "You an' me too," he added ambiguously.

She frowned. "What do you mean Sully?" she asked.

He turned and smiled at her. "Should be makin' the most o' the peace ... no kids ... no work ... no town council ..."

She smiled in return. "What do you have in mind?" she asked provocatively.

"Maybe a little holdin'," he suggested. "I could do with some o' that right now ..." The usual brightness in his eyes had been replaced with a need, a need fuelled by pain and confusion.

Michaela recognised it immediately and gently cupped his face to turn his eyes to lock with hers. "I could use some holding too Sully ... Its been quite a day ...," she returned softly.

He nodded and tilted his head to lovingly kiss her hand, then leaned towards her to claim her lips with his. After a long, loving kiss, he pulled back to murmur, "You keep me goin' Michaela ... You an' and the kids ... No matter what happens, you love me ..."

"Always Sully ... I love your heart and the compassion it holds ..." She placed her hand to her breast. "Its here ... a part of mine ... no matter what happens ... no matter how long we are apart ... You know that don't you?"

In reply, he again seized her lips and as the kiss deepened he gently lowered her to the ground, her head cushioned in his palm. For a long time their loving went no further than deep, long kisses and tender caresses. In the stillness and darkness of the night they melded together, reaffirming their devotion, expressing their ardour through mouths and hands. Then, inevitably, their loving grew in urgency. Clothes were unfastened and discarded, almost unconsciously, until they were able to ultimately unite, then move rhythmically to a final earth-shattering conclusion.

The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms.  Occasionally one would wake the other with adoring kisses and the loving would resume, then again they would sleep. Around them the nocturnal hunters sustained the circle of life, the moon rose to its zenith and then slowly descended to once again disappear behind the mountain peaks.

Continued ....