For personal and select distribution only � July 1997
by Pam Hunter

Sully heard the wagon approaching a long time before it came into sight. He’d been waiting anxiously for Michaela all morning. Now it was nearly lunchtime and she still hadn’t returned from the reservation. Keeping one eye on two year old Katie who’d become adept at getting into mischief and who was, for the moment, playing happily with her toys on the homestead porch, he kept peering into the distance and then let out a sigh of relief when he finally recognised Michaela driving the horses homeward.

Just as the family had been sitting down for supper the previous evening they’d been interrupted by a heavy thumping on the front door. Sully had answered the door to an out of breath young soldier who’d anxiously demanded that Dr Quinn accompany him back to the reservation because one of his fellow soldiers had been hurt while breaking up a fight between two indians. As usual, Michaela had jumped up quickly and reached for her medical bag.

I’ll go saddle Flash Michaela," Sully had said as he reached for his coat and headed out the door. "Sully, I’ll take the wagon," Michaela had called to his retreating back. At the time Sully thought it strange that she would take the wagon - she could get to the reservation much faster on horseback. Still she must’ve had something in mind, so he didn’t query her decision and hitched up the wagon, adding a few supplies as she would probably need to stay the night. But he did resolve to exercise Flash the next morning - Michaela hadn’t ridden him much at all lately he’d realised.

All night and this morning Sully had felt uneasy. During the long, lonely night, lying awake in their bed, he’d had the feeling that Michaela needed him, that her ‘song’ was calling him to her and yet he wasn’t able to obey his heart - he couldn’t leave Katie and Brian alone and he certainly couldn’t get mixed up in trouble at the reservation, something that might jeopardise his family yet again. So he waited for her, if somewhat impatiently, hoping that whatever it was he was feeling had a simple explanation.

Sully walked down the front steps, Katie in his arms, as Michaela drove up. She climbed slowly down from the wagon and reached to take Katie from him. She looked exhausted, her clothes dusty and crumpled, her face pale and drawn. Sully reached for her but received little response except for a half smile and a peck on the cheek. She seemed preoccupied as she turned away from him to mount the front steps tiredly.

"Michaela, are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

"Mmmm. I’m fine …… just need to rest I think," she said absently as she continued into the house.

Michaela seemed to perform all the necessary tasks during the next couple of hours mechanically, moving lethargically from one to the other as if in a daze. Sully soon learnt that it was useless trying to engage her in conversation of any sort. Even when Katie had been put down for her nap after lunch and Sully prepared a warm bath for Michaela in front of the fireplace in their room she could not be drawn out of the strange mood she was in. She was physically exhausted, that was obvious, but there was something else, something that Sully couldn’t fathom. He helped her undress, even washed her back tenderly, but she remained distant from him.

Afterwards, Sully stood in the bedroom doorway staring down at his wife lying under the quilt, curled up into a tense ball, her back to him. Sully knew that she needed to sleep and yet he also knew that the sleep would be uneasy unless he could persuade her to talk about what was worrying her. The chores he had wanted to do could wait. He walked around the bed, removed his boots and climbed under the covers to lay next to her. Michaela did not react. He reached for her, pulling her into her accustomed position - her head on his chest, his arms around her back and shoulders. He did not say anything, he just held her, providing comfort and protection. He felt the tension in her body ease a little and her hand slipped inside the front of his shirt to rest over his heart. They lay like that for a long time. She did not fall asleep, nor did he speak.

And then, into the quietness, "Sully?"

"Mmmm."

"Remember when David was here years ago?" she asked tentatively.

Sully tried desperately to stop the clenching of his muscles, afraid that Michaela would sense his instinctive reaction. "Yeah, I remember," he said noncommittally and waited for her to go on.

"I remember asking him why he no longer practiced medicine …….. He said that he couldn’t bear to see more suffering …. that he’d seen too many people die…… that his talents as a doctor were useless in time of war." She stopped momentarily and swallowed. "I didn’t understand that at the time ……… but I think I do now," she said so quietly that he could barely hear her.

"Michaela!" Sully exclaimed. He’d never heard her talk that way before. "What are ya gettin’ at Michaela?" he asked disbelievingly.

Michaela’s eyes flew up to Sully’s shocked face. She said quietly but reassuringly, "I don’t mean that I’m going to do that …….. I couldn’t ……. ever ……. but I do understand it now." She closed her eyes and tried to explain, "I used to love going out to the reservation ……. I don’t mean that I loved what I had to do out there as a doctor or that so many of the indians were ill or undernourished because of the way the government was treating them ……… but I loved to spend time with our friends Sully, learn their ways, watch them carry on their traditions and customs as best they could……… but now everything’s changed."

"What happened last night Michaela?" asked Sully quietly, needing to know the circumstances which had made her think this way.

"Well………" He heard her take a deep breath. "One of the soldiers *was* hurt. He had a stab wound in his arm which was bleeding profusely and needed stiches …. but ……."

"But what?" he asked, gently brushing her hair away from her face with his finger.

"When I’d finished stitching and dressing his wound and was thinking of coming home to you one of the older tribesman beckoned me to follow him into a tipi close by"

"And …" he prompted.

"And there was a young indian ……. younger than Matthew ….. not much older than Brian really …….. he was unconscious, lying in a pool of blood, his face so badly beaten that you could hardly make out his features." She paused for a moment as if trying to control her thoughts and emotions. "He was dying Sully, and the soldiers weren’t even going to tell me. They weren’t even going to ask me to help him," she cried plaintively, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"How’d he git like that," asked Sully sombrely, also feeling her pain.

"The lieutenant said he was in a fight with another indian and the soldier I stitched got hurt breaking up the fight, but there was no other indian needing my attention Sully, and believe me, going on the injuries the young indian had, the aggressor was either another indian who would also be hurt or the armed soldier." Michaela sounded angry now, her tears drying on her cheeks. "There *was* no other indian Sully. I’m convinced of it. Those soldiers were just going to let him die while I stitched up the arm of his killer."

He held her tighter, not sure what to say. "Did he make it?" he asked eventually, sure that he already knew the answer.

"I worked on him all night. There was a bullet wound and so many injuries from the beating he’d received……….. I ……. I lost him …….. around dawn………" She turned her face into his chest, the tears falling again, wetting his shirt. "He was so young Sully. I kept thinking ‘what if it were Matthew or Brian’. He had a family just like they do ……. and now that family’s lost him forever."

Sully waited until the tears had lessened a little. "You an’ me …….. we’ve seen that sort of killin’ before Michaela …… we’ve helped ‘em as best we can ……. there’s plenty you’ve managed to save over the years with ya doctorin’," he murmured, wanting to ease her hurt, but even he knew that his words sounded hollow. He rubbed her back comfortingly and then, to give her hope, he added, "What about Cloud Dancin’ ……. you’ve helped him more an’ once …. saved his life more an’ once too, an’ now he’s with the Cheyenne in the north, keepin’ his people’s song alive."

"We hope," said Michaela soberly.

"He is Michaela," Sully said positively. "I’d know ………. I’d *know* if he’d joined the spirits of his people at Washita and he aint …… I’m sure of it."

Michaela spoke slowly and tiredly, as if the words she spoke were setting something straight in her mind, something she’d rather not articulate. "I’m glad Sully about Cloud Dancing ……. but last night made me realise, after all this time, that you’ve been right all along…… that there *has* been a war going on. A war just as horrific as the one David and you and so many others were caught up in. I always wanted to believe that the fighting and bloodshed between the army and the indians would stop …. that those in the government would see reason ….. realise their mistakes and prejudice in dealing with the indian tribes ….. that we could learn to live together ……. but I was wrong…….." She paused, holding her breath, and then said in a rush, "its not going to change is it Sully? At least not in our lifetimes."

Sully’s hold on her tightened, his brow creased as if he was in pain and tears filled his eyes. He hoped that she would not look up into his face. He couldn’t have spoken if he’d wanted to.

She took his silence as agreement. "That’s why I can understand David now. If the only medicine you could practice, day after day, hour after hour, was on battered and injured bodies, their wounds inflicted by other human beings …… that you knew that the next day and the one after that was going to be the same as today and that most of the battles you fought you were going to lose …… that’s what he and other doctors and nurses went through Sully. If I didn’t have the chance to help bring new life into the world, or treat my patients - watching them heal and seeing them return to their families happy and able to go on with their lives ….. I might feel like giving up too……… I felt so helpless last night ….. I couldn’t defeat what was killing that young indian ….. just like we haven’t been able to …….."

"I know …… I know ……. but we can’t keep lookin’ back Michaela …….. we can’t keep seein’ what we aint achieved ….. we gotta look at what good we *have* done ……. like with Cloud Dancin’, or that indian baby Live In Hopes, or talkin’ to those folks in Washington, or all those you helped when the epidemics went through the reservations ……. we done lotsa good over the years, maybe not as much as we wanted but you taught me that helpin’ even one makes it worthwhile ….. right? And our helpin’ *aint* gonna stop." He spoke more determinedly now, a touch of pride in his voice amid the pain.

Michaela looked up at him wonderingly. During their years together it had been she who had reassured him so many times that what they were doing for the indians was making a difference, no matter how small, and yet now it was he who was ensuring that *she* saw things in perspective. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and clasped him to her, silently thanking this man, with whom she shared everything, for his belief in her ….. in them.

"Last night made me wonder what sort of world we’re bringing our children into Sully," she murmured quietly.

"Depends on the sort of world we make it don’ it Michaela?" he replied. "If we bring Katie up to see the world from all sides, then she can make a difference too, no matter how small." Sully hesitated, musing over something she had just said. "Did you say *children* Michaela?" he asked, starting to put two and two together.

"Mmmmm …… maybe …….." she said sleepily.

"As in Katie and ……..?" he said, daring to hope.

"As in Katie and maybe Byron junior …….. in about six months time," she answered shyly, raising her eyes to gauge his reaction before resting her cheek back on his chest.

Sully’s heart leapt. When Katie was a little over a year old they’d lost a baby early in the pregnancy and after that nothing had happened. They’d decided that maybe Katie was it for them, not that they really minded - she was a blessing, she’d brought so much richness into their lives. But now ….. could it be?

He put his fingers under her chin and raised her face once again so that he could show her the love and hope he was feeling. "Michaela, remember when Cloud Dancin’ gave Katie her Cheyenne name - Born of Love," he said quietly. "Well, *I* want to give this baby its Cheyenne name. I’m sure Cloud Dancin’ will approve. Is that alright with you?"

She looked up at him wondering what he was getting at.

"I don’t think the Cheyenne will mind if we give this baby the same name as we gave one of their own," he suggested.

She suddenly knew what was coming.

"Live in Hopes, Michaela …… think that’s fittin’ don’ you …. in memory of Black Kettle?" he said, enthusiasm showing in his face and voice before adding earnestly, "an’ it needn’t be just Cloud Dancin’ that keeps the Cheyenne song alive. We can teach our kids all we know of the Cheyenne way of life can’t we, let em’ know about the people and their story ….. all of it …… the good and the bad, when they’re ready and can cope with it."

Michaela’s heart felt like it would burst. Her love for this man grew with each passing day. She reached up and kissed him tenderly. "I don’t mind …… and you’re right, Cloud Dancing won’t mind either, he’ll be so proud …….." she said as she relaxed in his arms and drifted off into a deep and dreamless sleep, finally giving in to her exhaustion.

And Sully? He lay awake, conscious of the fact that, along with Cloud Dancing, he and Michaela had a responsibility to make sure that, through their children, the story and the ways of the Cheyenne would never be forgotten.

THE END