Chapter Three
by Sandi 99

"We both know you're not my favourite person ... and, um, I can't, for the life of me, figure out why I'm here 'cept, ah ... there is a sayin' - the devil you know is better than the devil you don't know. Well Hank, you're the devil we know. And, uh ... I believe I speak for the rest of the town when I say ... I hope you come back to us.

Grace to Hank - The Man in the Moon.
*****************
Hank escaped into the night air, pulling in deep breaths. With his drinking spree over, he was now experiencing the after-effects of the whiskey. Standing behind the bar, breathing in the smoke and alcohol fumes had proven to be too much for him. He'd stumbled toward the swinging doors of the saloon, his face a ghastly shade of grey.

Laughter escorted him outside.

With his arm wrapped around a support pillar, Hank hung off the front porch, waiting for his queasy stomach to settle. He looked out toward the mountains, noticing the first rays of dawn tingeing the sky with streaks of red. He'd stopped drinking, somewhere in the middle of the night, and he'd spent the rest of that time trying to reason with his heaving stomach. He'd already made several trips out to the outhouse behind the saloon.

"Gettin' old," he mused to himself. There was a time when he could have consumed twice as much whiskey and still been able to walk a straight line. Truth was, Hank couldn't remember a thing about what happened before he set down his whiskey bottle and started to rid his belly of the rotgut brew. The entire evening was a complete blank. Most of the events of the past two days, in fact, were nothing but a haze. He vaguely remembered standing out in the middle of the street and yelling at Vi Patterson. And he recalled a different scene inside the saloon later on, as he held onto the woman's arms and shook her roughly. He even knew why he'd done it. She'd been sneaking around behind his back again, going off with that fancy gentleman friend of hers. At least he remembered that much. A few days ago, Vi had announced that she intended to marry this guy and Hank bellowed at her, "Who the Hell is it? Gimme his name, Vi! I'll kill him!"

But she'd stubbornly refused to tell him anything more and Hank, feeling like he'd suffer the same humiliation that he endured when both Myra and Emma walked out on him, had picked up the bottle. He hadn't put it down since until just a few hours ago. Now he was paying the price.

He stepped down off the porch, intending to take a walk and see if he couldn't work the last of the alcohol out of his system. After that, he'd kick the remaining stragglers out of his saloon, lock the doors and go to bed to sleep it off. He squinted into the lingering night shadows as he passed the clinic, then turned in the direction of Bray's Mercantile. As he passed the front porch of Loren's store, he stopped and stared. There were a couple of large crates on the porch and Hank thought of going over to investigate. He'd been waiting for a whiskey shipment and he wondered if one of the crates contained his precious bottles. But Loren was a good businessman - he'd never leave a shipment of whiskey outside all night, for someone to come along and steal it. Still, there was something familiar about the crates and Hank wondered if he'd passed by the store earlier in the night, if he'd looked inside to figure out the contents. He shrugged and moved on.

It was kinda eerie not remembering things. Something told him that he didn't spend the whole evening inside his saloon but he didn't really know why he had that feeling or what it meant. Damn - he was turning into an old man! No, he was turning into Jake Slicker!. He shook his head.

"Better get a grip on yourself, Lawson," he muttered.

It was Vi's fault. She went off with that guy behind Hank's back and, when Hank found out, she'd openly defied him. Told him that she intended to marry the man, in spite of her contract with Hank, and there was nothing that Hank could do about it. Nothing. Yeh, it was her fault that he started drinking so much, her fault that he got so ugly with her. He didn't like it when he had to threaten his women to keep them in line. Usually he indulged in more pleasant activities with the fairer sex.

He'd just passed Loren's store when he heard the scream. Up ahead, a young girl knelt down beside the bridge that spanned the small stream next to the church. Hank quickened his pace and drew up alongside the teenager.

He wondered what she was doing out so late. 'Probably spoonin' with her boyfriend behind her folks' backs,' he thought, before noticing that the girl was staring down into the water. Hank followed her gaze. He could just make out a crumpled body lying below them, half in the water, half out. The girl had a hand clamped over her mouth and she seemed to be paralyzed with fear. Hank ignored her completely as he scrambled down to the small river bank.

Even in the dim morning light, he recognized the body. He'd seen her every day for the past two years, knew the scent of her perfume, the scooped necklines of her dresses that always revealed a tantalizing glimpse of the tops of her breasts. He knelt down beside her and tears stung his eyes.

"Vi," he breathed.

He placed his hands under her shoulders and eased her out of the water, pulling her up the bank to dry land. The body was stiff, cold. Hank didn't need to feel for a pulse. He knew she was dead.

"Vi," he whispered, squatting down and cradling her against his chest.

"God, Vi..."

The young girl on the bridge made a small, choking sound and Hank glared up at her. "Are ya just gonna stand there gawkin'? Go git someone." He paused for a minute, before adding. "Get Michaela. Go on!"

*****************
The young girl, Dulcie Bowman, not only alerted Michaela, she alerted the rest of the town on her way out to the homestead. She was half-sobbing, half-screaming as she made her way through the town, heading toward Robert E's livery. Lamps were lit behind the windows of the buildings as she passed and people stepped out of their businesses and homes, rubbing their eyes, still dressed in various forms of nightwear. Jake Slicker left the warmth of his bed, and the arms of his wife, to join the others outside. The house he'd built was in the centre of town, the grandeur of the home advertising the barber's exalted position as town mayor.

"What the hell is goin' on?" he demanded. He turned questioning eyes toward Loren, who'd emerged from inside the store.

"How should I know?" Loren asked. "All's I heard was somethin' that sounded like a cat with its tail caught in Dorothy's printin' press!"

Robert E. chased after Dulcie while he was still fastening the top buttons of his shirt, and grabbed hold of her with one hand. Jake watched as the blacksmith listened to her garbled speech, then the man turned his gaze toward the meadow. Jake followed his stare and caught sight of Hank kneeling down on the bank of the stream. Even though the sunrise was now illuminating the scene, he could barely distinguish the bartender, or the limp body he held in his arms.

Jake was one of the first ones to reach his friend. Hank looked up at him, then shook his head.

"Too late, Jake," the man said. "She's dead."

Jake knelt beside him and stared down at Vi's face. "What happened to her? The stream ain't deep enough to drown her."

Hank snorted, softly. "She didn't drown. Look at her neck. She was strangled."

It seemed like most of the town had gathered behind them and Sheriff Terrance McKay forced his way through the crowd. "What's goin' on here?" he demanded.

Hank sneered at him. "Where were you, sheriff, when Vi here needed ya?"

The man had tolerated enough of Hank's abuse over the past few months to let Hank's jabs slide off his shoulders. He completely ignored the bartender.

Six months ago, McKay had given up his post in the army. "I just haven't got the stomach for it anymore," he'd told Jake, "what with everythin' that Custer's doin' to the Indians and listenin' to the politician's lies. Just couldn't stand back and watch a whole nation bein' wiped off the face of the earth, knowin' I couldn't do anythin' to stop em."

He'd just been passing through town, after giving up his title of sergeant, at the same time that Daniel Simon grew bored with the sheriff's job. Daniel, with his usual wanderlust, wanted to see more of the country, discover what opportunities lay beyond the boundaries of Colorado Springs. Seizing upon an idea, the town council met and, within a matter of hours, McKay was offered the position of sheriff. With his army experience, Jake had called him the perfect candidate.

"He won't go easy on folks, you can count on that!" Jake had stated. So far he had no reason to regret the decision but Hank and McKay had clashed a few times. The sheriff didn't much care for the way that Hank treated his girls, or some of his customers. On top of that, he intended to enforce the law and some of Hank's 'dealings' weren't always completely lawful.

The sun rose into the sky and something in Vi Patterson's hand glinted in the light. Jake stared at it, speechless for a minute, before reaching out. He intended to snatch it away from the dead girl's hand before anyone else could spot it. Sheriff McKay was too quick for him. He knelt down and placed a hand on Jake's arm, stopping him. "What have we got here?" he asked, slowly.

A sturdy gold chain was twined around Vi's fingers, biting into her tender flesh. Suspended from the chain and dangling onto the ground beside her still body, was a gold pocket watch. Jake swallowed convulsively. He'd seen that watch many times. Hank's Nana had given it to him when she visited him once, and the engraving on the front was very distinctive. The sheriff eased it out of Vi's fingers and snapped open the case. Jake knew exactly what he'd see inside. The watch was engraved with Hank's name and the date.

Yanking his gaze away from the watch, Jake stared into Hank's eyes. The bartender's face was deathly white, shock etched across his features.

*********************
Dulcie Bowman borrowed a horse from Robert E and galloped out to the homestead, still sobbing uncontrollably. Banging her fists on the front door, she called out incoherent sentences until the entire family was wide awake and alarmed. Sully yanked open the door and the young girl collapsed into his arms.

"She's dead," she wailed. "In the water. If my folks find out I've been out all night, they'll ... I ain't never seen a dead body before ... I feel sick ... I ..."

Sully pushed back from her and held onto both of her arms. Then he gave her a gentle shake. "Listen ta me. Ya gotta calm down and tell us what's wrong. We can't understand what you're sayin', Dulcie."

The girl started to babble again and he shook her once more. "Stop! What happened?"

Dulcie drew several deep breaths, looked as if she might hyperventilate, then started to explain rapidly, her voice catching on a hiccup as she tried to regain some measure of composure. "I was out with Vern. My folks told me not ta go, said they'd tan my hide, but I snuck out anyway. They don't like Vern - they say he's too old fer me and no good but he ain't. He's .."

Sully held up a restraining hand. "It's okay. Just tell us what scared ya."

"Vern left me at the meadow and I was just sneakin' back inta town when I saw it."

Sully was losing patience. "What? Saw what?"

Dulcie's terrified eyes seemed to consume her face. "The body!" she breathed. "In the water, beneath the bridge. At first I didn't know what it was so I knelt down for a better look and then ... I knew it was a woman."

Sully exchanged a concerned glance with Michaela. His wife spoke for the first time.

"Dulcie, do you know who it is?"

She shook her head, wildly. "No! He just told me to come get ya. He said, 'Get Michaela'."

"Who?" Michaela asked, frowning.

"Mr. Lawson, from the saloon. He said ta get ya and bring ya back with me." Her face crumpled and she dissolved into tears again. "Oh, Dr. Mike ... I ain't ever seen a body before and my folks are gonna kill me for bein' out so late and ..."

Michaela seized control of the situation. She gestured toward Brian who had been hovering in the background. "Why don't you take Dulcie into the kitchen and make her a cup of coffee? Take Katie with you. Maybe the two of you can help her feel better."

Brian nodded, but he looked a little intimidated by this hysterical female. Nevertheless, he obeyed his step-mother's instructions and led the girl over to the table, gently coaxing her into a chair. Katie trailed after them, her eyes bright and alert as she anticipated a new adventure.

Sully was grateful for Brian's presence. The boy was at home for a while. He'd graduated from journalism and applied to several newspapers in various parts of the country. He had yet to hear back from them but, in the meantime, he was a great help around the homestead. He took care of Katie when Sully and Michaela were busy and he'd turned into a very capable young man. Sully watched for a moment as Brian bent over to place an arm around Dulcie's shoulders, talking to her soothingly. Then Sully directed his attention to his wife once more.

"I'll saddle up Flash," he volunteered.

She nodded. "I'll get my bag."

*******************
By the time Michaela arrived in town, Hank had been arrested. Half the town stood out in the street, passing around opinions. Most of them were still in their nightclothes, a fact that hardly seemed to register with anyone. Michaela and Sully reined in their horses and sat, staring at the crowd. Dorothy was the first one to spot Michaela and she called out to her. "Michaela! Thank Heavens you're here. We were figurin' on takin' the poor girl inta your clinic but it's all locked up. So we had no choice 'cept ta take her inta Hank's saloon instead."

Duncan Lodge stood among the crowd, impeccably groomed and outfitted in a suit. He'd obviously taken the time to attend to his personal hygiene before venturing out into the street. He snorted softly now. "Ironic, wouldn't you say? Here we are, putting the woman back inside that saloon when the owner of that establishment is the very person who ended her life."

"What are you talking about?" Michaela asked, frowning at the man.

Jake Slicker answered. "He's talkin' bout Hank, Dr. Mike. The sheriff arrested him. Looks like he killed Vi Patterson."

Michaela couldn't stifle a gasp. "Hank?" She hesitated as the information hit home. "Do they have any evidence against him?"

"Fraid so," Jake responded. "We found his pocket watch. Vi had the chain twisted round her fingers and all of us heard Hank threatenin' her the other day. The sheriff figures they struggled and Vi grabbed onto the chain, ripping the watch outta Hank's pocket. A couple of his girls said he threatened ta kill her a day or so ago." He shook his head and sighed, heavily. "Looks like Hank did it all right."

"Awww... we all know that Hank's got himself a temper," Loren added. "We seen it before, when he tried to shoot Myra to stop her from marryin' Horace here. Ain't that right, Horace?"

The telegraph operator nodded. "That's right. Y'all know that Hank's not my favourite person but ... I wouldn't be sayin' this if it wasn't the gospel truth ... Myra told me once that he gets rough with his girls, after he's had too much to drink."

"And we all know how much he's been drinkin' lately," Dorothy remarked, softly.

"Yeh, he done it all right," Horace agreed.

The crowd grew silent as they mulled over the indisputable evidence. Michaela twisted around in her saddle to face Sully. "I'll go to the saloon and look at the ... at Violet. I could use a cup of coffee. Would you mind going to Grace's for me?"

"Sure." Sully nudged his horse with his heels. Michaela watched him ride away and sighed, wearily. It promised to be a very long day.

*****************
Hank reclined on the hard cot, leaning back on his elbows, one leg stretched out on the bed, the other dangling over the side. To the unobservant onlooker, he looked relaxed, at ease, even slightly bored. But if someone took the time to really study him, they would have noticed the hard glint in his blue eyes, the tightening of his mouth.

He was deep in thought, trying to replay the evening's events in his mind, trying to remember something, anything. There was no denying that he'd been good and drunk for a large part of the night, but was he drunk enough to take a woman's life and not remember doing it? Was he that angry with her? It didn't seem possible.

He was so immersed in his own thoughts that he failed to hear the door to the jailhouse open and close again softly. He did hear Sheriff McKay exchange a couple of words with someone and, when he looked up, the man was standing next to the jail cell and staring through the bars. Hank sneered at the intruder.

"What the hell are you doin' here?"

Patrick O'Donnell clucked his tongue and studied the bartender. "Thought ya might be needin' some company, lad. Tis a sorry state ye got yourself into."

Hank scowled. "So why do you care? Who are ya anyway?"

"Name's Patrick O'Donnell. From the Formanaugh County O'Donnells." He touched a finger to the brim of his hat. "Pleased to make yer acquaintance, I am."

"Yeah?" Hank gave a hoot of laughter. "Why? Last time I saw ya, I was tossin' you outta my place on your face."

"Tis true, lad, tis true. But I'm afraid that I may have been partly to blame for that. I'd had a bit of the brew and I was in an arguin' frame of mind at the time."

Hank's gaze slide down the length of the man's body and returned to his face. "So, why are ya here? What do ya want?"

O'Donnell glanced over at McKay. "Might we be havin' a bit of privacy here, Sheriff?"

McKay hesitated for only a second before shrugging. He rose from the chair he'd pulled up to his desk. "Guess it won't hurt. I'll be right outside."

Hank's visitor waited until the sheriff closed the door behind him before speaking again. "So you want to know why I'm here, do you? Ah, but that's the question now, isn't it?" He pressed his face up against the bars and winked at Hank conspiratorially. "There's a whole mob out there on that street that seem to think you're guilty as sin itself. Looks like you might be needin' some assistance, wouldn't ya say? I'm thinking that I could be the one to help you out, my boy."

Hank looked intrigued. "Help me out? How?"

"Everyone knows I was in the saloon with you the night before last. Passed out we were, both of us, face down on the tables. The good people of this town saw you tossin' me out onto the street, as well." He rubbed one shoulder and winced. "I'm surely sufferin' from the effects of that, lad, but no matter. Seein' that I'm a bit of a drinkin' man and all, it would be a small ting to convince these trustin' souls that you and I settled our differences, so to speak, and I went back to the comfort of your drinkin' establishment late last night - or should I say, early this mornin'? All I need to do, my boy, is vouch for you. I'll tell them that I saw you and you were drunk and passed out once again. Harmless, you might say. Not able to touch one hair on that saloon girl's head. I'll provide you with an alibi, if you catch my meanin'."

"What's in this for you?" Hank growled, his eyes now narrowing even more.

Patrick shrugged. "I'm not someone who believes in the 'mob mentality', my boy, and that's what you have on that street out there - a mob. You'll be lucky to get a fair trial and, even if ya do ..."

"Who's gonna believe ya?" Hank interrupted. "There were other men in my saloon. They'll swear on a stack of Bibles that you weren't there. And most of them know damn well that I wasn't passed out - leastways, not last night." He hesitated before adding, "Sides, I don't remember what I did. I could have gone to Denver and back again and I wouldn't know the difference!"

O'Donnell appeared a little shocked by the admission. "Aw, tis that way, is it? Well now ...." He paused for a long moment. "That's a shame. You see, lad, I know a little bit about what you might be goin' through right about now. I've been on the receivin' end of something like this meself. Back in Ireland, I got caught with a goodly sum of cash in me pocket and was accused of stealing it. Fact was, the money was planted and the culprit was tryin' to even up the score, so to speak, over a slight indiscretion on my part. I was found with his missus, in her bed at the time, as a matter of fact, and the man didn't take kindly to my presence so ..."

"Who the hell cares?!" Hank roared. "What has all of this got to do with me? Ya can't do nothing for me, old man! Sides, I don't need no help from strangers."

Patrick O'Donnnell looked slightly taken aback by his outburst. He straightened and tugged on his vest. "I disagree with you ... Mr. Lawson. By the look of tings, you need all the help you can get. That's the God's honest truth, lad. I thought you might be welcomin' a friend, someone who might understand your predicament, but it appears I was mistaken. Foolish of me, it was. Truth is, I just came to town to find me brother. So, if you'll excuse me, I'll just be on me way ..." He tipped his hat to Hank, preparing to move off.

"Hey, old man," Hank called out, halting his departure. O'Donnell glanced at him once again. "If ya really wanna help, then tell Michaela ... Dr. Quinn... that I wanna see her. She's the only one I'm willin' ta talk to."

O'Donnell sighed, heavily. "Indeed I will, lad. I only hope that the dear lady has more patience than I do."

****************
"He wants to see me?" Michaela was just stepping out of the saloon when Patrick O'Donnell caught up with her. "Did he say why?"

"The man wasn't exactly, what you'd call, sociable, Dr. Quinn. I'm just delivering his message and I'll be takin' me leave. I'm lookin' for my brother, Jeremiah O'Donnell, and I have some enquiries to make concerning his whereabouts. If you'll excuse me..."

Michaela reached out to lay a hand on his arm. "Your brother is Jeremiah O'Donnell?"

Patrick nodded, eyeing her sharply. "You've heard of him then?"

"I'm afraid so," Michaela whispered. "Your brother was killed in a hunting accident a few years ago, Mr. O'Donnell." His face grew pale with shock and Michaela added, sincerely, "I'm so very sorry."

He nodded, too overcome with grief to speak.

"Mr. O'Donnell," Michaela urged, "my husband is over at the café right now. Perhaps you should speak with him. He knows your brother's wife, White Feather, and his son quite well. I'm sure he'd be happy to accompany you to their homestead, if you asked him."

O'Donnell simply nodded, his eyes haunted. He turned to leave.

"I'm sorry, Mr. O'Donnell," Michaela repeated. "Truly I am."

"Thank you," he whispered before moving away in the direction of the café, in a daze. Michaela watched him go and then turned toward the jailhouse. What in the world could Hank want with her? Squaring her shoulders, she headed down the street to the jailhouse.

When she stepped into the building, Sheriff McKay was sitting behind his desk once again. He rose to his feet as she entered and nodded toward her.

"Doctor Quinn. Nice to see you."

"And you, Sheriff." She glanced over at the jail cell. Hank was on his feet as well and his fingers were wrapped around the bars, his knuckles white. "Sergeant ... I mean, Sheriff." She laughed, slightly. "I just can't seem to get accustomed to addressing you in that manner." McKay smiled at her and she continued. "I wonder, would you allow me to have a few minutes alone with Hank?"

McKay's gaze settled on the papers strewn over the top of his desk and he sighed, heavily. "Don't look like I'm gonna get much paperwork done today," he mumbled. In a louder voice, he responded to Michaela's request. "Certainly, Dr. Quinn. I have a few supplies to pick up at the General Store. I'll be over there, if ya need me."

Hank spoke as soon as McKay departed. "Thanks for comin', Michaela.

She approached the cell. "What is this all about, Hank? Why did you ask to see me?"

He pulled a sour face. "Well, I ain't in no position ta do any fancy entertain' so ... I figured you was the best I could get!" She raised her eyebrows, refusing to react to his teasing and he instantly sobered. "Fact is, Michaela, I need your help. I seem ta be in a bit of .... quicksand here."

"Yes, you certainly do," she agreed. "But I'm not sure what you expect me to do about it."

He held up a restraining hand. "Just hear me out, okay, before ya go makin' judgements."

She folded her arms across her chest and waited. Hank cleared his throat.

"I can't honestly say that I remember much of what took place last night and I won't lie ta you and try and tell ya that I know, without a doubt, I didn't kill Vi. I don't." Michaela looked surprised at his candor and he continued. "I was mad enough to do it, I suppose. She'd been sneakin' round behind my back for days."

"Why?" Michaela asked, intrigued.

He sighed. "Vi found herself some fancy boyfriend and she was goin' out ta meet with him at all times of the day and night. When I found out bout it and tried ta stop her, she told me that she was plannin' on marryin' him and I couldn't do nothin' bout it. We had an argument but she snuck out anyway, even after I told her she couldn't go."

"That was the day when you had that scene in the middle of the street?"

Hank nodded. "She was just goin' gainst me, every time I turned round. And I didn't want the same thing happenin' with Vi that happened with Myra and Emma. She was one of my best girls, understand?"

Michaela considered the question before answering. She would never understand Hank's 'ownership' of his saloon girls but she did realize that Hank placed his business ahead of most other things in life, certainly ahead of his own conscience. "I suppose so," she said, reluctantly.

"Guess I lost my temper." He gave her a sheepish look. "Guess I do that a lot, huh?" When Michaela didn't answer, he added. "And I got inta some fights with her in front of most of the town so it looks like I'm guilty."

"And?" Michaela prompted.

He scrubbed at his brow with one hand. "Thing is ... don'cha think I'd remember doin' it ... killin' someone, I mean? How could a man forget somethin' like that?"

"Many people who drink to excess suffer from black-outs, Hank," she reminded him, softly. "Jake did, back in his drinking days. It is quite possible to forget your own actions afterward."

"Yeah, well, I just don't buy it." Hank frowned at her, in frustration. "I don't go round killin' people, Michaela. Sure I make a lot of noise and get a little rough sometimes but ... I ain't a murderer. Specially not when it comes ta one of my girls. I had a soft spot for Vi. How could I kill someone when I felt that way bout her and not remember doin' it? Tell me that."

"I don't know," Michaela said, honestly. "You said she was keeping company with a man? Who was it?"

Hank threw up his hands and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. "Ya think I know?! I got a feelin' that, if we could pin him down, we'd get some answers. But I only got a suspicion bout who it might be. I can't prove nothin'. And even if I could, what can I do bout it while I'm sittin' in a jail cell?"

"You sound like you need a lawyer, Hank," Michaela advised.

He laughed out loud when she said it and she gave him a quizzical look. "Listen Michaela, all I wanna know is whether or not I did it. That's all. If I did do it, then I'll take my lumps like a man. I'll step up to those gallows without no complaint. But I gotta know." He fixed her with his stare, the intensity in the depth of his eyes causing the breath to catch in her throat. "Ya gotta help me, Michaela. You're the only one who can. The rest of the people in this town will just leave me in this cell to rot. Sure, Jake will feel bad cause I won't be round no more but he's got his wife and his business and he won't be puttin' himself out on a limb to help out his old buddy. As for Loren and the rest of 'em, the way I see it, they always figured I'd lose my temper one day and kill someone. They won't be no help. But you, Michaela - you've always been fair-minded, ya know? You've always done what's right."

"What is it that you want me to do, Hank?" she asked, swayed by the sincerity in his gaze and the strength of his plea. "Tell me what you want."

He looked relieved before putting his face up against the bars and dropping his voice to a whisper.

*********************
Duncan Lodge glanced up at the clock, on the wall opposite his desk, and sighed. It was only eleven o'clock but it seemed like he should be closing down his practice for the afternoon and going over to Grace's for supper. That young girl, that Dulcie whatever her name was, created such an uproar that she had the whole town awake before the crack of dawn! Someone should throttle the girl! He'd just bent his head to study the law book in front of him again when a soft knock sounded on the door. Before he could call out, the door swung open and Michaela Quinn entered his office. Duncan sprang to his feet, a wide smile on his face.

"Michaela! What a pleasant surprise! What can I do for you on this fine, fall day?"

She moved over to his desk and sat down on the other side, gesturing toward him and urging him to settle back into his chair again. "Duncan," she began, when they were both seated, "I'm afraid this isn't a social call. I'm here to discuss a business proposal with you."

His eyebrows rose. "Business? Of course, Michaela. Are you in need of legal services?"

"Yes," she confirmed, "but not for me. A friend of mine has been arrested and, unfortunately, he doesn't have the necessary funds to secure a lawyer. He's asked me to speak with you, on his behalf."

Duncan frowned. "This friend's name wouldn't be Hank Lawson by any chance, would it Michaela?" She nodded and he shook his head. "Really, Michaela, I'm surprised at you. I would have never expected a woman of your stature and breeding to associate with the likes of this ... common bartender."

Michaela straightened in her chair and raised her chin, proudly. "I'll have you know, Duncan, that this 'common bartender' has come to my assistance on more than one occasion. While it is true that we haven't always seen eye to eye, Hank actually saved my life once. I will never forget that - not as long as I live."

"Really?"

"Yes. I was shot, point blank, and it was Hank who found me and took me to Andrew's clinic at the Chateau. If Hank hadn't been there, I would have bled to death."

Duncan was somewhat impressed. "Well then, perhaps there's more to this man than meets the eye."

"I'm glad to hear you say that, Duncan," Michaela answered. Her voice softened, became more persuasive. "You see, Hank needs someone to handle his defence, to find out what happened last night. Due to his present financial circumstances, however, he can't afford to retain legal representation. I was hoping that you could find it in your heart to either waive your fee, or to bill him later, when he's back on his feet."

Duncan snorted, shaking his head. "Michaela, you must know that I'd do anything for you. But this Hank .... I'm sorry but, as far as I'm concerned, the man is guilty. It would be very difficult for him to pay me back when he's dangling at the end of a rope."

"Don't even say that!" Michaela chastised.

"Forgive me," he apologized. "It's just that I don't take on bad risks, Michaela and I don't like to lose. It damages my reputation. And I have no doubt that, if I defended Hank Lawson, I would most definitely lose."

"Won't you reconsider?" she asked, leaning forward in her chair, slightly. "I'd be more than happy to pay you and have Hank repay me later. If only ..."

Something caught in her throat and Michaela began to choke slightly. "I have the money ..." she started again, before she dissolved into a fit of coughing.

Duncan was on his feet instantly, pouring her a glass of water from the pitcher on his desk. As he handed it to her, his face was shadowed with worry. "Are you alright, Michaela?"

She tried to wave away his concern but the choking wouldn't subside. She took a huge gulp of water but the coughing spell caused the water to dribble back through her lips. She lunged to her feet, trying to swallow the remaining liquid in her mouth.

Duncan moved over to her and pounded firmly on her back with the heel of his hand. After a couple of seconds, she managed to control the choking. Completely drained, she slumped against him in exhaustion. Duncan's arms closed around her, loosely. At that moment, the door swung open and Sully stood, framed in the doorway.

"What's goin' on in here?" he demanded.

Duncan released Michaela abruptly and she straightened. "Sully? I was choking and Duncan came to my assistance. What are you doing here?"

"I told ya earlier that I was takin' Patrick O'Donnell out to meet White Feather and Luke." The man was moving further into the room as he spoke. "I just got back inta town and someone said they'd seen ya headin' in this direction. I wanted to tell ya that I was back but...." He glared at Duncan. "it don't look like you've been missin' me very much."

Michaela bristled. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Sully answered her question with a question. "Whaddaya doin' in here anyway - alone with him?"

"I came over here to ask him to represent Hank, if you must know!" Michaela snapped back at him.

"Hank? Why would ya be helpin' out Hank?"

"In case you've forgotten, Sully, Hank did save my life once. He asked me for help and I couldn't just turn my back on him." Her next words dripped with sarcasm. "After all, aren't you the one who's always so insistent on 'helping' others?"

"What?" He frowned at her.

"I'm referring to White Feather, Sully. You're always so anxious to race out there and lend a hand, take care of things for her." She'd squared off against him, her petite, delicate frame stiff with righteous indignation.

"Are ya startin' on that again?" he demanded, his face dark with anger. "I told ya the way things are."

"Oh yes, you told me! But it seems awfully strange to me that you can come in here, playing the wronged husband because you've caught me alone with Duncan in his office when, the rest of the time, you're alone with White Feather out in that cabin of hers!" She was beyond reason now, the words tumbling out of her mouth unheeded. "I've seen her, Sully. She's a beautiful woman. Isn't it convenient for you - all alone out there in the wilderness with no one around to see what's going on? At least I conduct my business within the town limits, where everyone can see me."

"Your business?" Sully's voice had risen in volume and he took a step toward her. "What kinda business?"

Duncan felt that it was the appropriate time to intervene on Michaela's behalf. "Here now, Sully, I think that's quite enough. You're upsetting Michaela and I feel ..."

The man spun toward him, his eyes sparking with fury. Intimidated, Duncan had the sense to close his mouth and back off. "I know exactly how you feel, Duncan. You've made that pretty clear." He pointed a finger at the lawyer. "And I'm warnin' ya, if you lay a hand on her again ...."

"Sully!" Michaela's voice was shrill. "Stop it this instant! This is utter nonsense! You're being ridiculous."

He turned toward her slowly, his entire body tensed. "That so? Well, Michaela, you don't need ta worry bout it no more. Sorry if I ... interrupted you."

He tromped toward the door and Michaela called out after him. "Where are you going? Sully?"

"I need to think," he threw back over his shoulder. "We both do." Without turning, he yanked open the door and stormed outside. Michaela stood staring after him, speechless. Duncan studied her shocked face, trying to mask the smugness in his expression.

Chapter Four
by Jean McQuaid

Circumstances are not always what they seem,
Your beliefs suspended, your thoughts in a dream.
A mirage of feelings that just aren't there,
But don't be fooled, be careful, beware!
Is it a fallacy or could it be real?
It's all up to you and how you feel.
The magician fools you with his trick.
The eye is fast but the hand is quick.
Let not your mind be blurred by the illusion,
Look far beyond it, reach your own conclusion.

The Illusion .......... by: Jean McQuaid
*********************
"I'd better be going." Michaela was naturally despondent.

Duncan touched her arm gently. "Please ........ stay." Pleading with his deep brown eyes, he urged her to take a seat. "We need to talk."

Reluctantly, Michaela followed his suggestion. "I really should go after Sully. He's right. What I was thinking, getting involved with Hank?"

"No, my dear lady, I, for one, am appalled by his reaction." Duncan's subtle demeanor suddenly changed to anger. "You're a compassionate, caring woman who shouldn't be treated in such a barbaric manner. Mr. Sully would stop at nothing to help the Indians, but shows little mercy for the white man!"

"You don't understand. Hank isn't exactly the most well liked person in town. In fact, I'm sure most people feel he's finally getting what he deserves."

"And you Michaela, how do you really feel about Mr. Lawson?" Duncan was fishing.

Michaela pondered over the difficult question, taking her time before she came up with a suitable answer. "There were times I thought I hated him yet, there were other times I saw something in Hank I knew others didn't see. He's a very complex person, afraid of showing weakness or vulnerability, but he is a person, Mr. Lodge and deserves the right to a fair trial."

"Hmmm, quite admirable, Michaela." Duncan slowly walked over and sat back down in his chair. One could only imagine what was going through his mind at that moment. "Yes, quite admirable," he whispered again, as if conversing with himself.

Dispirited, Michaela stood up, preparing to leave. "I really must go now Mr. Lodge..."

"I'll do it!" he shouted as he jumped up from his chair. "We'll do it Michaela, you and I. Together, we'll clear Mr. Lawson's name. You're right, he is a human being and deserves to be treated as such. Please forgive my hesitance, but you have my word that I shall do everything in my power to help my client. I'm not like my brother, Preston, and I want you to trust me, Michaela. I'll represent Hank Lawson."

"You will?" Michaela was pleased but surprised. Maybe Duncan was different from the rest of the Lodges, maybe all he needed was a little time to prove himself. Preston Lodge had become quite predictable. One knew most of the time where they stood with him, but with Duncan Lodge, it was different. "I can't thank you enough, Mr. Lodge."

"Duncan, please call me Duncan. No need to be so formal, Michaela, and there's no need to thank me. In fact, I'm the one who should be thanking you for bringing me back to my senses. Your duty as a doctor is to aid the sick and injured and mine, as a lawyer, to help the accused." He took hold of her hand as he ushered her towards the door. "Yes, Michaela Quinn of Beacon Hill, you're truly inspiring and I'm the one who should be thanking you."

Sully watched as Duncan and Michaela stepped out of the law office, their hands still locked together. That was all he needed to see as he bounded across the street. Gently pushing his wife aside, Sully grabbed Duncan's coat collar. "Thought I told you to keep your hands off my wife, Lodge!"

"Sully, please." Michaela tried to reason with him, but Sully's full attention was set on the man held in his grasp.

Duncan was equally determined to stand his ground and wasn't about to be intimidated any longer by this so called 'Mountain Man'. "I thought slavery had been abolished, Mr. Sully. No man has the right to treat his wife in such an abusive manner. Preston was right, you are nothing but a savage!"

Duncan had barely finished his sentence before Sully's fist came up to meet his chin.

"Sully! No!" With all her strength, Michaela managed to pull her husband back before his fist once again found its target.

Nothing that went on in town was ever ignored or missed by any of its inhabitants, and this confrontation was no different. They came from the cafe and from the mercantile, from the saloon and the barber shop, all curious to see what was going on. Micheala looked around to see the concerned faces of the people of Colorado Springs, every one of them waiting to see if Duncan Lodge would retaliate. But he didn't and, like a true gentleman, he centered his bow tie and straightened his jacket. "Come, come now, Mr. Sully, I think you've embarrassed your wife enough for one day." He turned his attention back to Michaela. "Dr. Quinn, " he bowed, "we shall continue our conversation at a later date." With that, he went back into his office and shut the door, leaving the mountain man and his wife to deal with the aftermath.

"How could you?" Michaela looked at Sully, her face blanketed in disgust. "Don't you trust me?"

Sully turned sharply to face her. "It ain't you I don't trust, it's that man!"

"That man has graciously offered to act as Hank's lawyer, no thanks to you," she returned. "Now, if you're quite finished, I have work to do." And she stormed off to her clinic, slamming the door behind her.

Sully, oblivious to the whispers of the people around him, wasted no time mounting his horse and bolting out of town.

*******************
"Well, red or green?" asked Madison Montgomery as she fluttered her long dark lashes .

"Red or green what?" replied a very unobservant Matthew.

"Which one do you like better, the red dress or the green one?" This time she caught his attention as she raised her voice, obviously quite annoyed at his lack of interest.

"I'm kinda partial to green."

"Why am I not surprised?" She tossed the dresses aside and stood with her arms crossed over her chest tapping an angry foot. "You sound just like Sully. I understand he's quite 'partial' to green dresses too!"

Matthew couldn't understand why she was so disturbed. It was only a dress. He did feel a little guilty though about the lack of attention he'd paid to his fiancée the last few weeks and that their wedding had been postponed.

Maybe she was just feeling a little neglected. "Ya, Sully always did like Dr. Mike in green. It looks good on you too, Madi, but then you'd look good in anything"

She turned her back to him. "Matthew Cooper, I certainly hope you won't be this heedless once we're married. I do not plan to spend the rest of my life trying to get your attention!"

Matthew gently turned her to face him and lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "I'm sorry Madi, I guess I haven't been payin' that much attention to you lately, but you know how hard I've been working. I'm doin' this for us Madi, for our future so please, don't be angry with me. I love you."

Madison's temper eased and she allowed herself the pleasure of his arms around her. But when they kissed, her displeasure turned to passion. "I love you too, Matthew and I'm so sorry for acting like a selfish school girl. I know how hard you've been working and I'm just a little impatient, that's all. I want to be Mrs. Matthew Cooper so bad I don't how much longer I can wait."

He caressed the long strands of her hair and whispered into her ear, "It won't be much longer and then I promise, you'll get my full attention."

That was all she needed to hear. "I think I like the green one too. It'll be perfect for our next visit to Colorado Springs to see your family. We are going soon aren't we, Matthew?" She fluttered her lashes again. "You did promise."

Matthew laughed and drew her into his arms again. "Soon Madi, real soon."

********************
Luke watched with ambiguity as Sully rode up to the cabin. He was a good friend and had done so much for them. But Sully had a wife and family of his own and now that Uncle Patrick was here, they wouldn't need him any longer. Many times Luke had seen the light that shone in his mother's eyes whenever the mountain man was around. It was the same light that used to shine for his father. He was torn. Sully was a good man but there could never be anything between them. Luke would not allow it. He would not allow his mother to be hurt.

"Sully," Luke called out. "Why have you come?"

"I promised your ma I'd get that roof finished."

Luke couldn't restrain his feelings, even if it meant alienating his good friend. "We no longer need your help. My Uncle Patrick has promised to stay."

Sully was confused by the change in Luke's attitude. "Is there somethin' you wanna tell me, Luke?"

*******************
Patrick O'Donnell spent several hours looking about the cabin his brother Jeremiah had called home. He could feel his late brother's presence everywhere and a tear came to his eye as he thought back to their childhood in Ireland. Undeniably taken aback when first introduced to White Feather and Luke, memories of the type of person his brother was came pouring back. Jeremiah O'Donnell always talked about sailing on one of those big ships and becoming a pioneer in the American west. He talked of nothing else until one day, after tossing a sack filled with his meager belongings over his shoulder, he bid his brother farewell and stowed away on an early morning ship. Patrick remembered the sadness that filled his heart and never got over the feeling of being left behind, swearing one day he'd find his brother.

So much like his father, Luke was every bit the image of his dear brother.

And White Feather was not only beautiful, but seemed to possess a good deal of intelligence, not at all what he expected an Indian woman to be like.

Now he stood in the open doorway to the cabin, confused by the conversation he'd overheard between Sully and Luke. "Sully, glad ta see ya back. I'll be needin' all the help I can get."

Luke turned sharply. "Sully and Cloud Dancing are good friends Uncle, but you are blood and now that you have come, we no longer need them."

Patrick could sense that something was bothering Luke as well. He stepped out of the cabin and walked over to place a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ah Luke, yer a fine young lad and so much like yer Father. Tis a fine home he built here fer you and yer mother, fine indeed. Me heart is heavy with sorrow that I never got ta see him before he died. You'll be missin' him, but I'm glad ya got this mawn Sully here, fer a boy needs a mawn in his life, someone he can talk too, ya know."

"But this is your home now too, my Uncle. We do not need anyone else." Luke was obviously making a plea for his Uncle to move in, permanently.

"Well I think yer mother might have somethin' ta say about that, lad. Tis not my place to be bargin' in on ya, but I will stay as long as I'm welcome."

"You are welcome, Uncle. We will live together as a family."

Patrick smiled. "We'll see lad, we'll see." But he knew there was more to Luke's mood change. He would have to talk to the boy later to see what was behind his blatant rudeness towards Sully. "So Sully, tell me now, how's that charming wife of yers? Busy tendin' to the sick and the ailin', is she now?"

"Amongst other things," Sully replied dryly.

"Sounds ta me like yer feelin' a bit left out there Sully me boy. Ah, but don't be too hard on her lad. She's a good woman and a fine doctor. Why, with a name like Quinn, she's bound ta be stubborn and pigheaded, but yer a lucky mawn, Sully. Very lucky indeed."

Sully smiled but wasn't about to carry this conversation any further. His personal life and problems were his business and he wasn't willing to discuss them with anyone, let alone Patrick O'Donnell.

*******************
Duncan Lodge hesitated before entering the Sheriff's Office. 'I must be crazy defending the likes of Hank Lawson,' he thought to himself. 'But it's the perfect opportunity to win Michaela's trust. In fact, I couldn't have come up with a better scheme if I'd planned it myself.'

Sheriff McKay looked up as Duncan entered his office. "Afternoon, Mr. Lodge. What can I do for you?"

"I'm here to speak with my client," replied Duncan.

Terrance McKay scratched his head, obviously surprised by Mr. Lodge's explanation. "Hank Lawson's your client?"

"That's correct, Mr. McKay. Is there a problem?"

McKay had encountered the other Lodge on several occasions and didn't much care for him, but this one seemed different. True, they were both overly aggressive and snooty but Preston would have never given Hank the time of day, let alone offer his services. But it wasn't his place to pass judgment on the man. He was simply doing his job as a lawyer. "No problem, Mr. Lodge. I'll be right outside, if you need me."

"Thank you, " Duncan replied as he turned to come face to face with Hank.

"What the Hell are you doin' here?" Hank bellowed.

Although Hank's tone was obnoxious, Duncan's was ten times more harrowing. "Believe me, Mr. Lawson, this wasn't my idea and, quite frankly, I don't really care if you rot in that jail cell. But it seems that we have a mutual friend and 'She' is the only reason I allow myself to even be remotely associated with the likes of you!"

"She? You mean Michaela sent ya?"

"That's right, Hank!" Duncan turned around acting very casual now, the look in his eyes revealing to Hank his obvious feelings towards the lady doctor. Pulling his gloves off carefully, one finger at a time, he then began to caress them as one would stroke a pet. It was as if he was in a dream, seeing beyond the room he was in. "I'd do anything for Michaela, as I'm sure you and most of the other men in this town would. But you see, Mr. Lawson, I'm not like the rest of you. I'm not afraid of showing this bewitching yet refined lady that she's far above you and that savage she calls her husband." He turned his attention back to Hank with a cynical look still glowing in his eyes.

Hank had heard enough. "Get the Hell outta here, Lodge!"

Duncan laughed and turned to leave. "I'll be back, so you'd better prepare a damn good story for me. A Damn good one, old boy, because you're going to need a miracle to keep you from swinging on the gallows."

"Get out!" Hank roared as he pounded his fists on the jail cell bars. "And stay away from Michaela!" But his protest fell on deaf ears as Duncan Lodge was already outside.

****************
Michaela was busy updating a patient's file when the door to her clinic suddenly burst open. There stood Grace and Dorothy, holding what appeared to be a tray of food.

"It's way past your lunch time, Dr. Mike and, since you won't come to us, we figured we'd come to you," Grace announced in her usual abrupt manner.

Michaela looked up from her desk. "Thank you for the offer ladies, but I'm afraid I'm not very hungry."

"Well it's no wonder, why...."

Michaela glared at them. "Look, if you two have come here to console me or offer some kind of advice, I don't want it!" She arose suddenly from her chair and went over to put the file away. "And furthermore, you can tell the rest of the town that my private life is no longer any of their business!"

Dorothy was just about to speak when yet another woman burst in through the open door. "How dare you, Dr. Quinn. Have you no shame.?"

Michaela turned back to see a very upset Teresa Slicker. "How dare I what?" she retorted.

"Did you not retain the services of Mr. Lodge to represent that murderer Hank Lawson? You cannot deny it, Dr. Quinn, for he told me himself that you shall work together to free that murderer."

"I don't think that's any of your business, Mrs. Slicker. That's between Mr. Lodge and myself."

"Not my business? Yes it is my business and the business of all the good people of this town. I will not stand by and watch you destroy what little dignity remains in Colorado Springs!"

"You don't understand."

"Ah, but I do understand, Dr. Quinn. I understand that maybe you have feelings for someone else, other than your own husband."

"How dare you..."

"No! How dare you! I had finally set aside my feelings of disapproval over you being a working wife and mother but now ........ the real Michaela Quinn has come to life. " She turned to the other two women, who stood speechless. "You call this woman a friend. Well, what do you think of your friend now? This woman who was engaged to two men at one time, who allowed Mr. Sully to spend many nights at her home before they were married and now isn't happy to have the full attention of Hank Lawson for her enjoyment, but seeks out yet another man, Mr. Lodge." She turned back to point a finger at Michaela. "You are no better than the women in the saloon, Dr. Quinn. You are nothing more than a harlot yourself!" and with that, she stormed out of the clinic.

Michaela was the first to speak. "Well, is that what everyone is saying about me, that I'm no better than one of Hank's girls?"

"Surely you don't think that's how we feel, Michaela? We're your friends and we know you'd never do anythin' to jeopardize your marriage or your family. But ya gotta admit, there are some mighty strange things goin' on around here and, since you won't tell us, what are we supposed ta think?" Dorothy seemed genuinely concerned. They'd become so close yet now she wondered if she really knew Michaela Quinn at all.

"Think what you like. I don't wish to discuss this matter any further." She slammed the filing drawer shut and went back to her desk. "And, if you don't mind, I'm very busy right now so I'd appreciate being left alone. And you can take that tray of food with you."

Dorothy and Grace left as the doctor had requested. They'd never seen her like this before and were more convinced than ever that something was terribly wrong between Michaela and Sully.

But, what none of them realized was that Colleen, Brian and Katie had been sitting on the bench outside the clinic the whole time. Dorothy covered her mouth with one hand as she turned to see the distraught faces of the children and wondered just how much they'd heard. But she got her answer as young Katie flew into the clinic, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Mama, Mama!"

Michaela looked up, in shock. "Katie?"

It didn't take long before her other two children stood in front of her, the looks on their faces reflecting their thoughts.

"Ma, what's going on?" Colleen's voice was shaky and she was next to tears.

"Nothing, really. Mrs. Slicker is just upset about the murder and the fact I asked Mr. Lodge to defend Hank."

"That's not what I heard, Ma." Brian seemed quite abrupt. "There's talk about you and Mr. Lodge. Is there somethin' you're not tellin' us?"

"No Brian, of course not. Where did you ever get an idea like that?"

"Everybody's talkin' about you and Sully, Ma. We just came from the store and even Mr. Bray asked us what in the heck was goin' on."

"It's true, Ma. They're all lookin' at us and saying how sorry they are that our folks are splittin' up." Michaela had never known Brian to be so precipitous. "Don't you think you owe it to us to tell us the truth, Ma?"

Michaela hung her head and started to cry. "I'm so sorry, you're right. It's about time you knew the truth."

******************
The sound of the waterfall was so tranquil and peaceful, it almost put Sully to sleep. But the sound of an approaching horse made him sit up and take notice of its rider.

Michaela slipped down from Flash and tied her to a nearby tree. Slowly she made her way over to where her husband sat, drinking in the sight of him as he sat awaiting her arrival. God how she loved this spot, their own private place where they could meet and relive the wonderful memories it brought back.

"I've always loved it here, Sully." She looked around at the landscape and then directly at the waterfall. "I'm so glad you chose this spot. I need to be here with you, now."

Sully stood and walked over, taking her into his arms. "I need to be with you right now too."

They stood alone, holding onto each other as if nothing or no one else in the world mattered. The sweet smell of wildflowers and the songs of the birds were delicious but the soft flowing sound of the water as it plunged over the rocks gave the most calming effect of all, almost putting them into a trance. Time had no boundaries here and all problems seemed to disappear, as if they'd walked into another world, one created just for them, by God.

Sully leaned back slightly and gently lifted his wife's chin so he could taste her love and return his great love for her. He could feel the blood surging throughout his body and the urgency in hers causing the kiss to grow deeper and more intense. His head was spinning and his desire grew strong.

Michaela, too, felt light headed, as if she'd fall to the ground if Sully let go. His lips were burning into her skin and she quickly found the buttons on his shirt. "Oh God, how I missed you, Sully."

Sully looked down at her, his eyes filled with tears. "I missed you too, Michaela." Then his lips, once again, claimed hers as he found the buttons of her blouse. "Don't know how much more I can stand."

The water was cool but refreshing against their skin and it washed away all the cares of the day, as if to cleanse their souls and minds for a new start. But as wonderful and exciting as it had been, their secret meeting would soon have to end. Important business lay ahead of them, something they had to set right, something they had to do, for their family.

Michaela was fully dressed and ready to get back on Flash as she turned once more to take a last look a the waterfall. "This is just acting, isn't it Sully?"

"Whadda ya mean, Michaela?"

"You know that I could never have feelings for Duncan, but......"

Sully came up behind her and slipped his arms about her waist. "You're wonderin' if I have feelings for White Feather?" He turned her around, preparing for one last kiss. "Ain't nobody in my heart 'cept you Michaela, you know that." His kiss was so sensual, she had her answer.

"I love you so much, Sully."

"And I love you too, Michaela. Now all we have to do is convince our family."

*********************
Colleen came up behind her husband who stood staring out the window of the homestead. "Any sign of them yet?"

Andrew turned to see the look of apprehension on his wife's face. "Don't worry Colleen, they'll be here." He took her hands in his. "I've always admired the devotion and respect your parents have for each other and you have to believe that, whatever's going on, there must be a good reason behind it. People that much in love don't just walk away without a fight."

Colleen looked up at her husband. "I just wish they'd hurry up and get here. In my heart, I know your right, Andrew, but I'll feel a lot better when I hear it from them myself."

Just then the sound of approaching horses made them turn their attention back to the window.

"They're here! "Colleen shouted. "Brian, Katie! Ma and Pa are home!"

Chapter 5 ...