by Becky

Martha pulled out a tray with some cinnamon and sugar cookies from the hot oven. The children were gathered at the kitchen table, drinking glasses of milk, eating sweets and listening to the chambermaid tell them fascinating stories of their mother's childhood.

"She got into quite a bit of mischief when she was your age, that she did," Martha said with a chuckle.

"Did she ever break a head with a baseball?" Byron asked.

Martha grinned. "No. But when she was three she painted all over your grandfather's atlas. I thought Dr. Quinn was going to dismiss me for not keeping a better eye on her. But he knew what a difficult one she was to keep an eye on!" She put the cookies to cool on the table with her spatula. "Here dears. Eat some more cookies."

"I'm gonna get a tummy ache," Byron said, reaching for a cookie and taking a bite.

"I wish you lived in Colorado!" Red Eagle said. "Mama never lets us eat this many cookies!"

"Never!" Katie added.

Martha chuckled just as the telephone in the kitchen buzzed.

Byron and Red Eagle stopped short and Katie let out a tiny screech.

"What is that?!" Byron exclaimed.

"Something's wrong with that box!" Red Eagle added. "It's making an awful noise!"

Martha laughed, drying her hands on her apron. "Oh, it's just the telephone, children. Haven't you ever seen one before?" She picked up the receiver. "Quinn residence? Yes operator, put her through. Good morning, Mrs. Martin…Yes she did. She loved them. They brightened the entire room…No, she's not feeling up to coming to the telephone….Yes, I'll tell her. Goodbye." She hung up the receiver and returned to the table where the children were staring at her, flabbergasted.

"Did you really talk to somebody, Martha?" Byron asked.

She grinned. "Yes, of course. What did you think, I was talking to myself?"

All three of the children climbed down from their chairs to examine the newfangled invention mounted to the wall.

"I never knew anybody rich enough to get a telephone," Red Eagle remarked. "Who do you talk to on it?"

"It's a nuisance really. Your grandmother's friends are always ringing about that flower show. Or at least they used to, before the accident. And they always seem to ring when I'm in the middle of taking something out of the oven."

"Can we ring someone?" Katie asked, fascinated. "Please, Martha? I want to try."

"I don't know who you know that you would want to ring!"

"Anybody. Come on, please," Byron pleaded. "Just real quick."

"Well, I suppose we could see if your Auntie Claudette is around. She had a telephone installed last month."

Byron jumped up excitedly. "Yeah! Yeah, Aunt Claudie! Aunt Claudie! Let's ring her!"

"All right, but I can't promise she'll be home," Martha said, picking up the receiver and cranking the lever on the side of the phone. "Operator? Claudette Atkins please. Beacon Hill." She glanced down at the children with a smile. "It's ringing!"

Red Eagle grabbed a chair from the kitchen table and dragged it below the telephone, and all three of the children climbed up on it to be level with the mouthpiece.

It rang several more times until someone finally picked up.

"Yes?" Claudette said.

"Miss Claudette? It's Martha."

"Martha, what is it?" Claudette replied frantically. "What's wrong with Mother?"

"Oh. Oh, nothing's wrong with your mother," Martha replied. "Mrs. Quinn is just fine. It's just, the children had never seen a telephone before, and I thought I could demonstrate it for them."

Claudette paused a long moment. "Martha, you rang me because the children don't know what a telephone is? And I almost had a heart attack thinking something had happened to Mother!"

Byron took the receiver from Martha. "Hey, Aunt Claudie!" he shouted into the mouthpiece.

"For heaven's sake you don't need to scream. Speak normally," Claudette retorted.

"Hey, Aunt Claudie," he repeated more quietly. "This is Byron."

"Yes, I deduced that."

Katie clutched the mouthpiece. "Auntie, how does it work? How can you hear us?"

"How should I know how it works? Go ask Alexander Graham Bell."

"Who's that?" Red Eagle asked. "Does he live in Boston too?"

"Who is your teacher anyway?" Claudette replied. "Doesn't she tell you anything about current events?"

"Miss Teresa," Katie told her.

"Usually we do spelling," Byron added. "Hey, wanna come to the museum with us today?"

"What museum?"

"The big one. In Boston. It has dinosaurs. Mama and Papa are takin' us."

"What would I want to go see a bunch of old bones for? And pay for the privilege!"

He pouted. "Please, Auntie? I want you to come. Please?"

Claudette grumbled and sighed. "Oh, all right. Now put Martha back on at once," she ordered.

Byron passed the receiver to Martha.

"Miss Claudette?" Martha said.

"Where are Michaela and Mr. Sully?" she demanded. "Why did she dump those unruly children on you again when you're supposed to be taking care of Mother?"

"They're out walking together, miss You know how they've missed each other. And Mrs. Quinn is sleeping."

"Martha, Mother's telephone is not a toy," Claudette scolded. "Tell the children they're not to touch it."

"Yes, miss."

"And tell Michaela I'll come by after lunch. Goodbye!"

"I just don't like the idea of you being around all those immigrants and indigents and their diseases," Claudette remarked disapprovingly as they strolled through the museum's crowded dinosaur exhibit.

"Father visited poorhouses all the time," Michaela said, holding Sully's hand in her gloved hand. Byron, Katie and Red Eagle were several yards ahead of them, delighting in all the ancient skeletons and desperately trying to see and take in everything the museum had to offer.

"Yes, and I hated it. So did Mother. Michaela, I believe we have an obligation to the poor just as you do. After all the Bible commands the most fortunate of us to give something to the needy. But surely a monetary donation would be a lot more appropriate. And safer."

"It's not the same."

"And you want to bring the children along, too! Don't you ever worry about exposing them to things like that?"

She glanced at Sully. He was admiring the skeleton of an ancient tortoise, not the least bit bothered by Claudette's spoil-sport attitude. "Well, I'll take all the precautions I can. I suppose there's always a small risk. But my children are strong and healthy."

"Byron doesn't sound very healthy. Always coughing and sniveling. That high elevation can't be that good for an asthmatic."

"He doesn't seem to do any better here at a lower elevation than he does at home," Michaela said defensively.

Byron raced back to the adults, grinning excitedly. "Did you see all the dinosaurs, Auntie? Aren't they great?"

"Not exactly my cup of tea, Byron," Claudette replied.

"It's not time for tea yet," he replied, holding her hand. "Where to next?"

"Where next, Mama?" Red Eagle added.

Michaela consulted her museum pamphlet. "Well, let's see. We have the sea life exhibit in the east wing. And the cavemen exhibit. Oh, the ancient Egypt exhibit is in the next wing. They have mummies!"

"Mummies! Mummies!" Byron cried. "Come on, Auntie. Let's go see that."

Claudette scoffed as Byron pulled her forward.

"Dead bodies. Sounds marvelous."

"It's history, Claudette," Michaela said with a wry grin as they headed down the hallway.

"Of course you'd like them. You and your cadavers in medical school."

"What's a cadaver, Mama?" Katie asked.

Michaela squeezed her shoulder. "Well, when I was first learning about the human body I examined people who had passed away. They donated their bodies to medical science so that students and doctors could learn from them and then help people. A cadaver is a body."

Katie nodded with an interested smile but Claudette just rolled her eyes.

"Bizarre," Claudette remarked.

The children quickly grew impatient with the adults and ran ahead, talking breathlessly about the mummies.

"They're so eager to learn," Michaela said proudly. "Look at them, Sully."

He nodded, squeezing her hand.

"I suppose Colorado doesn't have very many museums, does it?" Claudette remarked.

"Speaking of Colorado I'm afraid we're going to have to be heading back there," Michaela spoke up.

Sully nodded. "End of the week."

"You can't go home," Claudette retorted. "Not until we find Mother another nurse!"

"We may not find her another nurse, Claudette," she replied. "At least not one you approve of."

"What are we supposed to do?" she said, brow wrinkling crossly. "You're just going to leave her here? Who's going to look after her?"

"Martha's going to have to I suppose."

"You yourself said how incompetent Martha is!"

"She's not incompetent. It's just I would prefer someone trained in the medical field to help her. But that's not exactly working out. Rebecca and I hired a nurse who was very talented, quite honestly over-qualified for the position, and look how that turned out. Mother drove her to quit! I'm not sure what more you want me to do."

"You move back to Boston of course. Like Mother asked you."

"I can't have this conversation again," Michaela said with exasperation.

Claudette stopped them in their tracks, staring her younger sister down. "Michaela, our mother is stuck in bed helpless as an infant, unable to so much as sit up on her own. I can't believe you're even thinking of walking out on her with her condition still so critical."

"How long is long enough for you, Claudette?" Michaela retorted. "Another month? Two months? A year?"

"You'll move heaven and earth to help some nasty group of immigrants over in those slums, but you don't want to be here for our own mother!"

"Claudette, I've been working myself into the ground caring for her. I'm exhausted!" Michaela said tearfully. "Not only that, but Mother doesn't have the mildest of dispositions. Emotionally this has been very trying as well. I'm sorry if you perceive this as walking out on her, but I have my husband and children's needs to think about, too. I have a life outside all of this."

"And because in your words I don't have a life I suppose it falls on me to decide what to do about her."

Sully put his hand on Michaela's back, squeezing her shoulder in caution. The quarreling sisters were beginning to attract a few stares from other museum patrons.

"I don't mean you don't have a life," Michaela said, doing her best to lower her voice. "Of course you do. But you and Maureen and Rebecca could shoulder some of the responsibility, too. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one around here who's done anything to help her."

"Well!" Claudette exclaimed. "So much for everything I've done for her ever since you left Boston more than ten years ago. How would you know all the responsibility I've shouldered when you're never even here? You have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Ya've both helped your ma a lot," Sully spoke up diplomatically. "No use fightin' over it."

"Mama!" Byron cried from down the hall. "Come look at this!"

"Excuse me. I'd like to try to enjoy the museum with my children," Michaela said, gathering her skirts and taking off toward them.

"And I'd like to try to enjoy it with my niece and nephew!" Claudette said, quickly chasing after her.

Sully followed them, shaking his head. Michaela and Claudette were constantly butting heads, and even he was growing tired of it. He had no idea how they had survived their childhood under the same roof.

Michaela and Claudette darted their way around several patrons, searching for the children.

"Byron?" Michaela called.

"Over here, Mama!" he called back.

Michaela suddenly spotted Byron over by one of the mummies that was inside a gold-plated open coffin. The exhibit was surrounded by ropes to keep out spectators, but Byron had ducked under the ropes and was fingering the ancient dark brown cloth curiously. Katie and Red Eagle watched from a safe distance away. Fortunately none of the museum curators strolling the building had noticed him yet, but a few other patrons were eyeing him disapprovingly.

"Byron, what are you doing?" Michaela exclaimed.

"Seeing the mummy!" he replied with a big smile.

Claudette gasped. "Byron! What do you think the ropes are for, decoration? You mustn't touch it! No, no!"

His face fell and he glanced at the ropes as if suddenly realizing they were there.

"Byron, come out of there," Michaela called, holding her hand toward him. Sully joined them and watched the scene with a soft smile.

The little boy grudgingly ducked back under the ropes. "How come I'm not allowed to touch it?"

Michaela held his hand firmly, not wanting him out of her sight again. "Well, because it's so old and fragile if everyone touched it then it would be destroyed."

"But I was trying to find the cadaver in there," he explained. "I thought you could examine it."

"Like in medical school," Katie added helpfully.

"You were looking for a cadaver!" Claudette echoed, appalled.

Michaela glanced at Sully and suddenly burst into giggles. Byron smiled up at her with relief, and suddenly Katie and Red Eagle started snickering too.

Claudette looked at all of them and struggled to keep a straight face, but soon she too lost control. She shook her head at Byron and covered her mouth, emitting a soft chuckle.

Sully tousled Byron's hair and picked him up. "Come on. Let's see what else they got."

"Together this time," Michaela added, grasping Katie and Red Eagle's hands.

"Next?" Michaela called, dabbing at her brow with the back of her arm. Michaela and Sully and the children had met with the superintendent of one of Boston's largest poorhouses and arranged for a mass smallpox inoculation of all its residents. Elizabeth had donated the cost of one-hundred vaccines and Michaela had offered to administer it for free. Michaela and her father had frequently visited the city's poorhouses, orphanages and slums and she had eventually done her residency at one. Josef had instilled in a her an obligation to the less fortunate, and he had strongly believed that every doctor should donate as much time as they could to such causes. He had even once written a paper about the importance of pro bono that a few medical journals had picked up. Michaela and Sully both wanted to encourage the same selflessness in their own children, and so when Michaela decided to spend an afternoon at the poorhouse, she took the entire family along, too.

Byron and Red Eagle were tossing a ball with a few little boys their age. Sully and the poorhouse's superintendent were helping to line up everyone for their inoculations. Meanwhile Katie stood by Michaela's side, comforting the youngest patients and eagerly running to fetch water and fresh cloths and whatever else her mother needed.

Michaela rolled up the sleeve of a nervous five-year-old little girl. She scraped the skin of her upper arm with a lancet and the child immediately burst into tears.

"Don't cry," Katie soothed, grasping the little girl's free hand. "It's almost over."

"Almost over," Michaela repeated. She administered the smallpox vaccination into the scrape by rubbing it with a thin and small tube. "There, all done. Your arm is going to be sore for a few days. Try not to touch it. After that you should be fine," she explained, rolling down the girl's sleeve.

"Good girl. Run along, Tessy," the superintendent said with a kind smile.

"Next?" Katie spoke up.

Michaela glanced at her daughter proudly as she cleaned her lancet with carbolic acid. A young woman stepped forward, guided by Sully. In one arm she cradled her baby who was about a year old. With her free hand she held on to her other child's hand, a shy little boy about three with a few smudges of dirt on his face.

"How much does it cost?" the woman asked timidly.

"It doesn't cost anything," Michaela explained.

"But we need three."

"That's all right. You can have three," Michaela said, crouching down and rolling up the little boy's sleeve. "I'm Dr. Mike," she said gently. "And this is Katie. She'll hold your hand while I give you the medicine, all right?"

"God bless you, doctor," the little boy's mother whispered.

Byron tossed Red Eagle a baseball and he in turn tossed it to another little boy his age. The little boy tossed it back, throwing it overhand hard.

"You're good, Charlie!" Byron exclaimed.

"Thanks," he said shyly.

Byron spotted another little boy sitting on a cot, watching them toss the ball eagerly.

"Come play with us," Byron invited.

The little boy glanced back at him timidly. "I can't," he whispered.

"That's Ben. His legs don't work," Charlie explained.

Byron slowly approached him, glancing at his legs and suddenly noticing how small and weak they looked. "How come?" he whispered.

Ben shrugged. "I got sick a couple years back and now they just don't work."

Byron sat beside him. "That's all right. My gran'ma's legs don't work either. She hurt her hip and now she has to stay in bed."

Red Eagle approached the bed. "Did you get your shot yet from our ma?"

Ben shook his head. "Can't. I can't stand in line."

"You need that shot. All kids do. We'll help you," Byron said eagerly, handing Ben the baseball and putting his arm around him. "Come on, Red Eagle. You get his other side."

Red Eagle quickly grabbed Ben's arm.

"Wait. Don't drop me!" Ben exclaimed.

"We won't drop you. We're strong," Red Eagle vowed.

Red Eagle and Byron lifted Ben off the cot, dragging his feeble legs along the dirt floor toward Michaela.

"You're lucky you met us," Byron said, out of breath. "We'll let you skip the line."

Ben glanced at him gratefully as the boys carried him to the front of the line.

"Mama, Mama," Byron called. "You gotta help our friend Ben. He can't stand in line."

Michaela looked up from her instruments at the three children. Red Eagle and Byron were holding Ben securely and gazing at their mother readily.

"Boys, you carried him up here?" Michaela asked in disbelief.

"We had to so he could get his shot," Red Eagle said.

"His legs don't work cause he got sick. See, Mama? He's just like Gran'ma," Byron replied.

Michaela glanced at the little boy's limp and shriveled legs. She thought the child had probably contracted polio myelitis at some point. Usually the disease was harmless and children made it through without any long term effects. But for reasons they didn't know, some children were left permanently paralyzed, and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it.

"Katie, could you bring Ben a chair?" Michaela murmured.

Katie scurried off and returned moments later, dragging a wooden chair. Michaela helped the children guide Ben to the chair.

"Want me to hold your hand?" Katie offered.

"No thanks. I'll just squeeze this baseball," Ben replied.

Michaela rolled up the little boy's sleeve and administered the inoculation. Ben didn't make a sound throughout the procedure, and Michaela suspected that in his short lifetime he had been through pain quite a bit worse than a simple inoculation.

"See, that wasn't so bad," Byron murmured once it was over.

Sully stepped forward and laid his hand on Ben's shoulder. "Here, let me carry you back, son."

"We'll take him back, Papa," Byron immediately said. "We can do it."

"We can do it," Red Eagle repeated as they hoisted Ben off the chair and carried him back to his cot.

Michaela shared a smile with Sully.

"I'm so proud of all of them," she murmured.

"Me, too," he said, putting his arm around her. "Ya almost done here?"

"Yes. Superintendent Lamb says we only have about ten more people to do. We gave out about one-hundred inoculations today, Sully. That's one hundred people at least who aren't going to die of smallpox."

"I'm proud of you, too," he said lovingly, giving her a gentle kiss.

She tiredly cleaned the lancet in some carbolic acid, unable to stifle a yawn.

"We should head straight home, you can take a nap before supper," he suggested.

"I must admit that sounds wonderful right now." She shook her head, a little frustrated. "I don't have any energy lately. Everything is so tiring."

"Like ya said, lookin' after your ma is hard work," Sully said practically, reaching his hand up and rubbing her back. "Course you're tired."

She dried the lancet with a towel. "I suppose. Well, just let me finish here and we'll go. Next?"

Edward poured dark brandy from a glass bottle into two snifters. He carried them to Marcus on the sofa and handed him one.

"I can't believe we haven't had one response to that advertisement," Edward remarked, taking a seat beside Maureen on the opposite sofa and sipping his brandy.

Sully was reading the newspaper in one of the arm chairs and Michaela was sitting next to him. The children were quietly looking at a storybook in front of the fire, tired after a long day at the poor house. Sully really wasn't very interested in listening to Michaela's sisters and their husbands chatter aimlessly about politics and the weather and their petty problems, but he had politely joined them after their meal purely for Michaela's sake. He knew that except for Rebecca, her sisters as well as their husbands didn't think very much of him, and he didn't want to give them any more reason to criticize him by not taking part in their soirée. He had however declined a glass of brandy.

"You haven't had any responses because Claudette said no immigrants," Michaela spoke up.

"Michaela, we've already been over this," Claudette replied. "The last thing we want is another nurse like Zoya."

"Surely there are some good American nurses out there who could fill the position," Maureen remarked.

"Though perhaps we'll have to consider increasing the salary," Rebecca added as she looked over the children's shoulders at their book.

"I suspect Zoya's probably gone around tarnishing Mother's reputation," Claudette said vehemently. "Telling all her nurse friends to avoid her at all costs. That's why no one's responded. The nerve."

"Well, I wouldn't blame her. Mother was awful to her," Michaela said.

Edward pulled out his pipe and pouch of tobacco and Marcus followed suit.

"You should have let Marcus and me handle this from the beginning," Edward said. "You women are far too emotionally involved to make the right decisions about Mother's care." He struck a match and held it to his pipe.

"No, wait, wait," Michaela said, quickly standing up. "You can't smoke. You can't smoke in the house."

Edward looked at her in disbelief, holding the match in midair. "Michaela, we always smoke our pipes and have a glass of brandy after dinner."

"I know, but Byron can't take the smoke. He'll have an asthma attack. He's sensitive to everything. Dust, hay, pollen. But especially smoke."

Marcus slowly put his pipe down. "I'm sorry, Michaela. I had no idea."

"Go smoke outside, dear," Maureen said, patting Edward's leg. "It bothers Byron."

"He is a rather sensitive child, isn't he?" Edward remarked stealthily, shaking out his match. "The way he likes to paint and listen to Mother's phonograph and the way he's always crying for his mama. I'd be a little concerned if I were you."

Sully folded the paper loudly, glaring at him.

Michaela kept her composure, reaching her hand out to squeeze Sully's arm. "I don't mind if you smoke, Edward. Just please do it outside."

Marcus stood up, slapping Edward on the back. "Come on, Ed. Let's have a smoke outside. It's a nice night."

"The way Mother lets her take over the house when she comes here," he muttered. "She's as spoiled as she ever was."

Sully put down the paper angrily and shifted to get up, but Michaela quickly put her hand on his shoulder, stilling him.

"No," she murmured. "It's all right."

"Well, I for one am glad they're finally doing that outside," Rebecca spoke up helpfully. "Marcus' silly pipe makes our entire house smell like stale tobacco. I'll never get that stench to go away."

Michaela gave her an appreciative smile and slowly sat back down, resting her hands in her lap tiredly.

Claudette sat down in her father's office chair and crossed her arms. She picked up a letter Michaela was composing to Brian and quickly skimmed it, not caring if that might be considered eavesdropping. She rolled her eyes at it and put it aside, letting out a deep sigh.

Harrison rapped politely on the door. "A Mrs. Helen Schneider is here to inquire about the position."

Claudette perked up. "Really? Someone's here for the nursing position? Show her in at once, Harrison."

"Yes, miss," he replied, spinning around. A moment later he returned with a young woman. She had an old kerchief tied around her head and was wearing a drab brown frock and fading apron.

Claudette rose to her feet, eyeing her critically. "Won't you take a seat," she said, gesturing at the chair.

The woman timidly sat down in the chair, looking around the opulent room in admiration.

"Don't you have a nurse's uniform?" Claudette asked.

Helen shook her head and rested her hands in her lap.

"Well, I suppose we could get you one. Let me see your resume."

"Resume?" she repeated in a thick accent.

"Never mind. What's your experience in the medical field?" she asked skeptically.

"I come for job. For to nurse job."

"Are you literate? It's important that my mother's nurse be able to make detailed notes on her chart."

"I come for to nurse job," she replied.

Claudette raised her eyebrows. "Do you speak English?"

Helen timidly held up her thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

"Oh, good Lord. Harrison!" Claudette shouted. "Harrison!"

Harrison rushed back into the room. "Yes, miss?"

"Show this girl out for heaven's sake," Claudette ordered.

Helen reluctantly stood up, a little taken aback. "I have job?"

"No immigrants!" Claudette exclaimed as Harrison guided her out of the room.

Claudette made a fist and banged it against her forehead a few times in utter frustration. Michaela made her way down the stairs and past the office. She spotted her sister and did a double take, quickly backing up. "Claudette, what on earth are you doing?"

Claudette looked up and lowered her hand. "I just interviewed someone for the position."

Michaela entered the room. "You did? Wonderful. How did it go?"

"She spoke all of three words of English, that's how it went."

She sighed. "Oh, I see."

"Michaela, please don't tell me I'm being unreasonable. We have to at least be able to communicate with the person we entrust Mother to. We can't have someone like that in there."

"I wasn't going to tell you that."

"Oh, this is such a nightmare," Claudette muttered. "I'm going to shoot myself."

"Don't say that. We'll figure this out eventually."

"I'll be old and brittle and confined to bed myself before we find a good nurse for her."

Michaela stepped toward her and patted her arm reassuringly. "Martha's making some tea for Mother. Come have a cup."

"Oh, all right," Claudette replied, standing up and gathering her skirts.

Byron pushed open the kitchen swinging door, dressed in his nightshift and slippers. Red Eagle was right behind him.

"Well, good evening, lads," Martha said from the stove where she was placing a china teakettle on a tray.

"Hey, Martha," Byron said, climbing up onto the kitchen table.

"Hey, Martha," Red Eagle echoed.

"Could we have some warm milk before bed?" Byron asked, swinging his legs. "Auntie said it'll calm us down."

The chambermaid chuckled and placed a cup on a tray beside two others. "Warm milk and a little cinnamon too, coming right up. Just let me bring this tea to the ladies."

The boys watched her leave and then both of them looked toward the enticing telephone.

"Think Mama and Papa'll ever get one of those?" Red Eagle asked.

Byron swung his legs. "I don't know. I think Colorado's too far away to have a telephone."

"I wish we could," Red Eagle remarked with a sigh. "It was so fun ringing Auntie."

"Maybe we could call somebody again," Byron suggested timidly, biting his lip in thought.

"But who? We can't ring Aunt Claudie. She's not home. She's here."

He held up his arms. "I don't know. I don't know anybody else in Boston."

"Me neither."

Byron folded his arms. "Hey, how about we ring Mr. Smith?"

"Who's that?"

"I don't know. But there's two Mr. Smiths in church at home. Maybe there's a Mr. Smith here, too."

Satisfied with that, Red Eagle walked to the telephone and Byron jumped down from the table, sliding a chair beneath the contraption.

"Do you know how to work it?" Red Eagle asked doubtfully as they climbed up onto the chair.

"Sure I do," Byron boasted, removing the receiver and turning the crank as he had seen Martha do.

"Operator," a woman with a nasally voice suddenly said.

Byron looked at Red Eagle. "Now what?"

Red Eagle cleared his throat. "Um, Mr. Smith please," he spoke clearly into the mouthpiece. "Beacon Hill," he added.

"One moment," she replied.

Red Eagle glanced at Byron in shock and trepidation. The phone rang twice and then someone picked up.

"Yes?" a man asked.

"Mr. Smith?" Byron whispered.

"Yes, speaking. Who is this?" he barked.

The boys looked at each other, not sure how to reply. Finally Byron leaned forward.

"Byron."

"What?"

"Byron," he said a little louder.

"Byron who? How old are you? Is this some kind of prank?"

Overwhelmed by all the questions, Byron could only gulp.

"I'm seven, sir," Red Eagle finally said.

"I'm almost seven," Byron added.

"Jumping Jehosaphat. Just what I need, another precocious youngster ringing me past my bedtime."

"How can Martha just leave them in there around that hot stove and all those knives, all by themselves?" Claudette demanded just outside the kitchen door. "I never thought I would see the day, but she's finally losing her marbles, Michaela."

Michaela pushed open the door and entered the room with Claudette. Byron dropped the receiver and the boys froze, turning to look at them.

"Boys, what are you doing?" Michaela exclaimed.

"God-damned telephone is more trouble than it's worth. It'll never catch on," Mr. Smith carried on as the receiver swung by its cord. "Enough is enough. I'm going to have it uninstalled in the morning."

Byron smiled at Michaela innocently.

"Ah ha! I knew it was a bad idea to leave you two in here unsupervised. I knew you'd drum up some kind of trouble within two shakes a lamb's tail," Claudette said, folding her arms. "I predicted this one!"

"There's no lambs in here. We just, we accidentally ringed somebody," Byron explained haphazardly.

"And he was home," Red Eagle added.

"Who? Who on earth did you ring?" Michaela asked curiously.

"Mr. Smith," Red Eagle whispered, bending his head.

"Oh, no. Not Judge Matthias Smith over on Cambridge Street!" Claudette cried. "The most respected judge on the bench in all of New England!"

Michaela shook her head and walked to them, picking up the receiver. "Judge Smith? This is their mother. I'm terribly sorry. My profound apologies."

"Yes, well, goodnight!" he retorted, slamming the receiver.

The boys climbed down from the chair and stared at the floor.

Michaela hung up and then looked down at the boys disapprovingly. They averted their eyes and shuffled their feet guiltily.

"Do you think telephones grow on trees?" Claudette demanded. "You realize your grandmother receives a very expensive bill every month for this silly contraption. Thank goodness it wasn't long distance."

"Sorry," Byron whispered, eyes welling with tears.

"We're sorry," Red Eagle said, lip trembling.

Michaela sighed and put her arm around Byron. "Well, it's all right. But I don't want to see you pulling a prank like that on a poor old man like Judge Smith ever again. I don't want you to go near that telephone unless you have an adult with you."

"Yes, ma'am," Byron said, nodding eagerly.

"Off to bed with you. I'll come up for some cuddles in a few minutes," she said, squeezing Byron's shoulder.

The boys raced out of the room, eager to escape punishment.

"Cuddles?" Claudette said, flabbergasted. "Don't you think now is the time for a little reprimanding? A few nights without supper would teach them."

"Well, we don't have telephones in Colorado Springs. It's natural they're curious. I can't blame them for that."

"Heaven forbid a child's curiosity should be restrained for more than two seconds," Claudette said. She turned around with a sigh. "Boarding school," she muttered.

"Hm?" Michaela replied.

"Nothing," Claudette quickly replied, holding the door open for her. "Let's finish our tea."

Fiona wheeled her cart of cleaning supplies to Michaela's door. She tipped a bottle of polish over a cloth and polished the doorknob, then opened it and pushed the cart inside. Michaela awoke with a start and looked up at Fiona with surprise.

"Oh, Miss Michaela!" the maid exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know you were still sleeping."

"Fiona, what time is it?" Michaela asked groggily.

"Half past eight, miss," she said with a little curtsy.

"Half past eight?" she echoed in disbelief. "Everyone just let me sleep like this the whole morning? Why didn't someone come up and wake me?"

"I…I'm sorry, miss," Fiona said.

"No, it's not your fault."

"I'll make up your room later, miss. I'll leave you to dress." She quickly backed out with her cart and shut the door.

Michaela sat up in bed and licked her lips, pressing her fingers to her cheek. There was that strange taste again. It was faintly metallic and not at all pleasant, practically ruining her ability to enjoy all the wonderful food Martha prepared every day and the elaborate entrees she and Sully ordered when they went out on the town in the evenings and sampled Boston's finest restaurants. She got out of bed and walked to the window, pulling open the drapes to let in the morning sunshine. Then she picked up the hand mirror on the vanity, opening her mouth and peering inside.

Sully opened the door, wearing his usual vest and tie. "Fiona said ya finally woke up."

Michaela snapped her mouth shut and put the mirror down, spinning around.

"What were ya doin' with that mirror?" he asked with confusion.

"Nothing," she quickly said, smiling cheerfully.

"Somethin' wrong with your teeth?"

"I just, I have this strange taste in my mouth," she admitted. "It's rather foul."

"What kinda taste?"

"I don't know. Like I've been sucking on some metal. It could indicate an infection. I was just looking to see if there's any irritation."

"Ya got a toothache or anything?"

"No, not at all."

He walked to her and gently grasped her chin, tilting her head back. She held onto his arm for balance and opened wide, and he peered inside critically.

"See anything?" she asked, blinking and looking up at the ceiling.

"Nope. Looks normal. Nothin' looks infected to me."

She closed her mouth. "Oh, well that's good. I think."

He eyed her pensively for a moment as she walked to the wardrobe and selected a gown.

"Maybe we should take ya to see a doctor. Or a dentist," he suggested.

"Oh, no. It's certainly not that serious. I'm sure it's nothing."

"Ya get a good sleep at least?"

"I can't believe you let me sleep that long," she scolded, laying her gown on the bed.

He smirked. "Ya needed it. We were busy last night."

She eyed him wryly and walked to the dresser, opening it and pulling out her corset and garters and stockings. He walked up behind her and grabbed her waist, drawing her around and giving her a slow and sensual good morning kiss. She dropped the undergarments on the dresser and clutched his shoulders.

"Sully?" She pulled back and looked up at him timidly. "I don't taste any different do I? Sully, you'd tell me if something wasn't pleasant about me, wouldn't you?"

He chuckled softly. "Ya taste good. And of course I'd tell ya."

She smiled appreciatively.

"Come 'ere," he murmured, drawing her all the closer. "Let me taste ya again, just to be sure."

She giggled and settled into his deep kissing, forgetting for a moment how late it was as well as the disconcerting taste in her mouth, and just relaxing in his sturdy and loving embrace.

Giggling and screaming interrupted them a moment later. Byron ran into the room, dressed for the day in a brand new stylish Fauntleroy suit Elizabeth had ordered for him. His hair was slicked back neatly and held in place with a little hair grease and his shoes were polished and buckled up tightly. Michaela suspected Martha had probably had a big hand in helping him get ready for the day.

Byron grabbed Michaela around the waist and cowered behind her. "Mama, help!"

Michaela held him against her. "What are you hiding from?"

"Red Eagle an' Katie. They're chasin' me," he said breathlessly.

Katie stormed in, searching the room for her little brother. "Where is he?!"

Byron screeched and broke away from Michaela, running frantically to the bell pull next to the bed. He grabbed the thick fabric with both hands and shimmied up it. "See if you can get me up here!"

"Hey, that's not for climbin'," Sully said, walking toward him.

Michaela gasped. "Byron, get down from there. Are you a monkey in the jungle?"

Red Eagle ran in, pointing up at him. "There he is!"

"They're gonna get me," Byron protested, holding on for dear life to the bell pull.

Sully held his arms up to him. "Come on, son. I'll protect ya. Come on down from there."

Byron looked down at him and reluctantly worked his way back down the length of the bell pull and into Sully's arms.

"Now what's goin' on?" Sully asked. "Why they after you?"

"He took the last sticky bun," Katie accused, gazing at her little brother irritably.

"We didn't get any," Red Eagle added, folding his arms.

"Is that true? You ain't sharin' the sticky buns?" Sully asked.

Byron shrugged innocently. "I just got there first."

"He had three, Papa!" Katie exclaimed.

Michaela raised her eyebrows. "Three? Byron, perhaps a little restraint might be in order."

Sully sat on the bed with him. "You know what our rules are about sharin'."

"Oh. I thought that was only in Colorado," Byron said with a shrug.

Sully smoothed back his hair. "Nope, same rules in Boston. Now, ya got somethin' to say to your brother and sister?"

Byron looked at his siblings, suddenly feeling very guilty. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'll share next time."

Red Eagle unfolded his arms. "That's all right," he murmured.

"Kates?" Sully prompted.

"That's all right," she said, heaving a sigh.

"Next time you have a disagreement, why don't you come to us for help?" Michaela suggested. "Instead of chasing each other all throughout the house."

"Sound like a good idea?" Sully said, tickling Byron's chest.

He giggled. "Yes."

Sully put him on the bed and went after Katie and Red Eagle, tickling them. Katie screamed and Red Eagle clutched his belly.

Martha rapped on the door with a smile. "Did someone ring?"

Michaela laughed and wrapped her arms around Byron. "Just my little monkey. I'm sorry, Martha."

"Oh, no harm done," she said with a chuckle. "Who wants to help me bake cookies?"

"Me, me, me!" all three of the children exclaimed, running to her. Martha beamed and guided them out of the room, holding Katie's hand.

Michaela listened to the children relay the events of the past few minutes to the chambermaid as they headed to the staircase, about Byron climbing the bell pull and Sully tickling them. She shook her head with amusement and turned her attention back to Sully, wrapping her arm around him.

"Three sticky buns?" she said in disbelief.

"Hard to believe, a little thing like him," he said.

"You handled that very nicely, Papa," she said, standing on tiptoe and kissing him.

"All I could do to keep a straight face when he asked if Colorado rules apply here."

She laughed. "Leave it to our child to find a loophole."

"He's smart. Like his mama," he said, drawing her into a hug and rocking her.

Brian handed Sarah a cup of coffee and took a seat beside her on the porch bench, leisurely draping his arm around her.

"Nice night, huh?"

"Mm," she replied, snuggling up against him. "Any word from your ma and pa?"

"Letter came earlier today. I guess Gran'ma's nurse walked out."

"What do you mean walked out? You mean she quit?"

"Afraid so."

"But why?"

He shrugged. "Lotta reasons I guess. Now I guess they're lookin' for somebody new. Who knows how that's gonna go."

"Well, I hope they find somebody soon so everyone can come home. You must really miss them all."

"Yep. It's awful quiet around here," he remarked. "But it's been nice to have the place to myself for awhile. Almost like it's all our own."

She smiled. "Yeah, it is, isn't it?"

Brian kissed her head. "You know what this place needs? A porch swing."

"Oh, that sounds romantic. We could rock on it and watch the stars."

"When I build a homestead of our own, that's the first thing I'll do. Put up a porch swing."

"Homestead of our own," she echoed blissfully.

Brian smiled softly and shifted toward her, putting his other arm around her and drawing her up against him. Then he pressed his lips to hers and kissed her deeply.

Finally he raised her hand and kissed the back of it. "We don't get to do this too often, do we? At least not with a lotta folks around to run into us."

"No, we sure don't," she murmured, gazing at him adoringly.

"Let's go inside. Get warm by the fire," he whispered, caressing her face and threading his fingers with hers.

Father Dougherty sat beside Elizabeth with a thick book that contained drawings of various styles of caskets. Elizabeth and Claudette were looking through it together as Father Dougherty wrote in his leather-bound notebook.

He paused and pointed at a page as Elizabeth studied the drawing.

"This is the mahogany model. Very popular. Polished finish. Brass clasps. I think it would suit you nicely, Mrs. Quinn."

Elizabeth nodded and turned a page.

"The walnut model, also with brass," he explained.

"Oh, I like that one, Mother," Claudette said.

"Yes, it's lovely," Elizabeth said. She perked up as she heard Harrison opening the front door and ushering in Michaela, Sully and the children.

The children ran across the parlor and into Elizabeth's room, rushing to her bedside.

Elizabeth handed the book to Claudette and smiled. "How was the Bunker Hill monument?"

"Really fun! We climbed all the way to the top!" Byron exclaimed.

"Good, I hope you got rid of some of your insatiable energy," Claudette said. "Perhaps you'll be tired for a nap now."

"Nope, I'm too old for naps," Byron said proudly.

"Oh. That's a pity," Claudette replied.

"We could see all the way almost to Colorado from up there!" Red Eagle said with a giggle.

"Wish you coulda come with us, Gran'ma," Katie said sadly.

"Me, too," Red Eagle echoed.

"Father Dougherty, these are my littlest grandchildren," Elizabeth said with a proud smile.

"A pleasure," the priest said politely.

Michaela and Sully entered the room, hands clasped.

"Are you hungry for supper, Mother?" Michaela asked, surprised to see the priest there. "Oh, Father Dougherty. Good afternoon."

He smiled kindly. "Miss Michaela. Why, I haven't seen you in ages."

"It's Mrs. now," Michaela said, glancing at Sully. "My husband Byron Sully."

"Father. Pleased to meet you," Sully said, stepping forward and shaking his hand.

"Likewise, young man. You certainly can be proud of these dear children. And your little girl here, why, she must be about ready for her First Communion."

Claudette cleared her throat awkwardly. "Katie isn't going to have any kind of First Communion, Father. None of them will. Michaela left the church."

"I didn't leave the church," Michaela protested. "We go to church at home."

"Ah yes, in Colorado," the priest replied. "And what parish would that be?"

Michaela glanced at Sully helplessly. "Well, I don't think you've heard of it. We don't exactly have a lot of formal sacraments."

"It's a….progressive church," Elizabeth said helpfully as Byron climbed up on her bed to sit beside her.

"Oh," Father Dougherty replied, raising his eyebrows.

Claudette sighed. "This is all very fascinating. Michaela, we're trying to have a meeting. You really shouldn't allow the children to barge in on Mother like this."

"What kind of meeting?" Michaela asked. She glanced at the book of caskets, face falling. "Mother, what is that?"

"Father Dougherty has been kind enough to meet with me and help me make some necessary arrangements. I want everything in order for when I pass away."

"Pass away?" Katie repeated, tears welling in her eyes. "I don't want you to pass away, Gran'ma."

"Children, go find Martha and help her out with supper," Michaela said, squeezing Katie's shoulder.

"But I wanna sit with Gran'ma," Byron protested, hugging Elizabeth's arm.

"Do what your ma says," Sully added.

"Go on, dears," Elizabeth encouraged, giving Byron a hand down from the bed.

The children reluctantly filed out of the room and Sully closed the door after them.

"What's this about, Mother?" Michaela demanded, stepping back to the bed. "Why are you planning a funeral?"

"Because I'm going to die of course," Elizabeth retorted.

The priest stood, folding his hands. "Miss Michaela, if you'll permit me. I know none of us want to face our own mortality, but sometimes when one gets older, it's a good idea to begin making arrangements for one's death. It can offer a sense of comfort and reassurance in one's final days. And it certainly makes things easier on those left behind."

"This is about helping Mother feel better," Claudette added. "There's nothing wrong with planning ahead."

"There is when you're only doing it because you want to die," Michaela said vehemently.

"What?" Elizabeth exclaimed. "Michaela, that's absurd!"

"Is it, Mother?" she replied. "You certainly act like you want to. You don't want to do your exercises or eat properly or take your medicine or do anything that could help you get better. You seem content to just waste away in bed."

"Here we go again," Claudette said impatiently. "I suppose you're going to start telling Father about how you know she's going to get up and walk again. How you know she's going to be the exception to every other case Dr. Hanson has ever seen. All she needs is a little exercise and some Indian potions."

"I'm not saying I know what the future holds," Michaela said. "It's true, walking again looks unlikely. But I do believe strongly you have a chance at making some kind of recovery from this, even if it's just a small one. Mother, if you would just try!"

"Forgive me," Father Dougherty said, gathering the book and standing up. "This is a private matter your family should come to some agreement on first before calling me in."

"Oh, we're in agreement, Father," Claudette said, eyeing Michaela furiously. "Everyone except Michaela that is."

The priest laid his hand on Elizabeth's brow and closed his eyes. Claudette closed her eyes and bent her head and Michaela reluctantly followed suit.

"Omnipotent and eternal God," the priest recited, "hear us on behalf of Thy sick servant, Elizabeth, for whom we beg the aid of thy pitying mercy. Restore her bodily health through Christ our Lord." He reached his other hand up and crossed himself. "In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Ghost, Amen."

"Amen," Claudette said, crossing herself.

"Thank you, Father," Elizabeth said.

"Yes, thank you, Father," Claudette said. "Harrison will see you out."

The priest smiled and quickly exited the room.

"Claudette, draw the drapes, please. I'm exhausted," Elizabeth said, turning her head away from everyone.

Claudette rose and pulled back the thick drapes, darkening the room.

"Don't you want some supper, Mother?" Michaela asked quietly.

Elizabeth glanced at Michaela briefly. "Later. Leave me, please. I'm tired."

Michaela reluctantly walked out of the room, Claudette and Sully behind her.

Michaela paused in the parlor to glance at Claudette. "Will you be joining us for supper?" she asked timidly.

"As usual you get your way," Claudette retorted. "Just like everything else." She walked briskly to the door where Harrison helped her with her shawl and handed over her purse.

Sully popped a buttery snail into his mouth and washed it down with a sip of champagne. Michaela was sitting beside him in a beautiful deep blue ball gown, desperately trying to forget all the drama of the past few months and enjoy the romantic evening he had put together.

He watched her slowly eat one of her snails. She made a slight grimace, as if she didn't care for it but was too polite to do anything but swallow it. Snails had always seemed strange to him, but after having them a few times over the years he had to admit they were growing on him. The point was he knew how much Michaela liked them and that she hadn't had them in ages, and he didn't mind splurging a little for her sake. Especially given how hard the past several weeks had been on her. She deserved to order whatever she wanted at the finest restaurant in town. He hated to see her not really having the best of times tonight.

"This is the first real place I ever took ya out to when we were courtin'. Remember?" he remarked nostalgically.

"We weren't courting quite yet, remember?"

"Well, close enough."

She suddenly giggled. "We were so self-conscious. Both of us."

He smiled back. "Yeah, we sure were."

She sighed and pushed around her food. It seemed she couldn't think of anything other than her mother for long.

"What's wrong? They ain't cooked right?" he asked.

"Hm?" she replied, looking up.

"Your snails. Somethin' wrong with 'em? Ya wanna order somethin' else?"

"Sully, we're never going to find a nurse Mother likes. She's going to treat the next one as horribly as she treated the first. She'll go through them just like she goes through scullery maids."

He leaned back in his chair. "Tough for her to depend on somebody like that."

"I don't know what to do," she said, suddenly growing tearful. "Claudette's right. She's never been so unhappy. And truthfully now I'm afraid to tell her we're leaving. She's so desperate to have me nearby. I don't know how she's going to cope once we're gone. She's so melancholy as it is."

"What she needs is some good fresh air, some sunlight," he remarked. "Get her out of that stuffy room, out of the city. It's too bad she can't come out to Colorado, spend some time with us. She might just stop feelin' so sorry for herself."

She met his eyes. "If I were still living in Boston and this happened, I would take her into my home and care for her. I wish we could do that in Colorado."

He ate another snail. "Maybe we could."

She chuckled, taken aback. "Sully, you don't want my mother living in our house." She took a sip of her water.

He shrugged. "Me and her been gettin' along better lately. I like your ma. I do."

"You do?" she whispered.

"Course I do. She may be a little difficult sometimes, but she's got a real good heart." He smiled softly. "And she's changed since ya had Katie, ya notice?"

"How do you mean?"

"Since our kids were born she's calmed down a little, don't take things as seriously as she used to. She really loves the kids, and they love her. The grandchildren we've given her have been the best thing for her." He took another sip of champagne.

"I suppose they've given her a second wind. Before they showed up she hadn't had a new grandchild since Claudette's last child was born, and he's nineteen now." She smiled reverently. "I suppose our relationship's a little better too since I've had a baby. Now I know how she felt when my sisters and I were born. I can relate to her on a whole new level."

"The Cheyenne don't see old age as a bad thing," he told her. "The old ones are thought to be the most important members of the tribe. When an old man or woman gets sick, their children always take them into their tepee and care for them until they pass on."

"Perhaps the Cheyenne have the right idea about this." She sighed, shaking her head. "Sully, but you know what it's like when she visits us. After awhile you get tired of it, I know you do. And besides, she always takes great pains to point out that she can hear us…together. Sometimes I wonder if she enjoys embarrassing me. The house is crowded when she's there, admit it." She quickly looked down at her plate and ate a snail.

He smiled impishly. "She's just sayin' that to get a reaction. Sides, she wouldn't have to be in the house all the time. I could build her a room downstairs off the back of the house. She'd have some privacy, and so could we."

"Sully, do you realize how difficult this would be having her live with us? You and I would have to care for her. We're going to have a lot of sleepless nights until she starts getting better, if she ever does. She may not."

"I know that." He grasped her hand, holding it reassuringly. "Look, I don't see any of your sisters offerin' to do anything, steppin' up. They say they wanna help, but all they wanna do is just hire some stranger. Michaela, my folks died when I was real young. Elizabeth is the only person close to a ma I'm ever gonna have. The Cheyenne would say I got a responsibility to help my wife take care of her ma in her old age."

Tears appeared in her eyes and she laid her silverware across her plate. "You don't know how much this means to me. I love you so much."

He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

"It's so sweet of you to offer to do all this. And I'm sure it would be good for mother. But she's lived in that same house on Beacon Hill for fifty years. She'll never leave. Not to mention how my sisters would feel about us whisking her off to Colorado. They'd never forgive me."

"We can at least talk to her about it, put the idea in her head," he suggested. "If she says no, at least she'll know we care." He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it as the quartet started another waltz. "Wanna dance?"

"I'd love to," she said, putting her napkin on the table. He got up and pulled out her chair, leading her to the dance floor. She grasped his shoulder with one hand and threaded her fingers with his with the other and they began a slow waltz.

"You look about the same as you did dancin' here ten years ago," he remarked.

She chuckled. "And you were staring at me so intently. You made me so nervous!"

"I was tryin' to picture ya without that dress ya had on."

"Oh, please don't tell me that," she replied wryly. "Was that really what you were doing? I wouldn't put it past you."

He smiled, amused. "I just hope this evenin' is gonna end a little better than the last time we were here." He drew her close to him and pressed his lips to her ear. "This time you're gonna invite me up to your room."

"That sounds like exactly the ending I'd hoped for," she replied, beaming at him lovingly as they gazed into each others eyes.

"And then the marriage of the king's son with Briar-Rose was celebrated with all splendor, and they lived contented to the end of their days. The end." Martha closed the storybook and placed it aside. Katie was cuddled up against her in bed. She had taken an immediate liking to Martha, and the chambermaid adored the fair-haired, sweet little girl right back.

"Another story, Martha? Please?" Katie pleaded, clutching her doll.

"Now, now. What would your mother think if she knew I let you stay up this late? Goodnight, dearie." She gave the child a kiss on her head.

"Night-night. Tell Mama to come wake me up when she gets home?"

She smiled and walked to the door. "I'll ask her."

She walked across the hall to the larger of the guest bedrooms. Red Eagle and Byron were running around, darting between the twin beds as they engaged in a lively game of tag.

"Lads, why aren't you under the covers?" Martha asked, crouching down and picking up a pair of long underwear discarded on the floor. "It's bedtime!"

Red Eagle suddenly touched her back. "You're it!"

Martha chuckled. "Oh, I'm too old for such things!"

Claudette appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips. "What on earth is going on? Mother and I are just trying to enjoy a nice cup of tea and it sounds like the Battle of Bunker Hill up here."

"Hey, Auntie," Byron said as he dodged Red Eagle.

"Martha, why aren't they in bed?" Claudette demanded. "It's half past eight! You're almost as bad as Mother the way you pander to them."

"I'm trying, miss. But they're awfully lively tonight," Martha said, folding the long underwear and placing it back in the drawer.

"It's all those pastries you fed them," she accused. "No wonder they're wild." She clapped her hands firmly. "Boys, listen to your auntie and get in bed immediately!"

Startled, Red Eagle and Byron stopped chasing each other and retreated to their twin beds, getting under the thick covers.

Somewhat surprised, Claudette let out her breath. "Why, yes, that's better. I can hear myself think again."

"Auntie, can you kiss me goodnight?" Byron asked plaintively, holding out his arms to her.

Claudette was taken off guard. "Come now, Martha will kiss you goodnight," she replied awkwardly.

"No, I want you. I want you," he pleaded, frowning.

"Oh," Claudette replied, melting at his mournful expression. She joined him at the bed, crouched down and gave him a gentle hug. "Goodnight, dear. Pleasant dreams."

Byron wrapped his arms tightly around her neck and kissed her cheek. "How come you smell so good, Auntie? Even Mama never smells this good!"

She smiled wryly. "I'd better smell good. It's cologne from Paris your cousin gave me last Christmas."

Martha picked up a few toys off the floor. She had always been there for Elizabeth's daughters and later, her several grandchildren, for anything they could possibly need or want from a mother figure. Over the decades she had played all sorts of games with the various Quinn children whom she had had a hand in raising, tutored them, accompanied them on outings and, when they were old enough, excursions with suitors, talked with them and listened to their joys and heartaches, kissed away their bumps and bruises and showered them with limitless affection. She was the finest nursemaid any well-off Bostonian parents could ever hope to find. But she also had a very good sense for when to step back. And tonight was one of those times where she knew it was better she make herself scarce and let Claudette tuck in the boys. She put the toys on the dresser, then discretely exited the room unnoticed.

Byron sniffed Claudette's ear and then kissed her cheek again.

"Can I have a hug, too, Auntie?" Red Eagle called, holding out his arms. "I want to smell you, too."

"Oh, fine," she grumbled, joining him at the bed and giving him a hug. "Now you're to go to sleep straight away. No talking like your mother and I did when we were children."

"Did you share a room?" Byron asked. "Red Eagle and I share a room at home, too."

"Yes, we shared this very room in fact, until mercifully Rebecca married and your mother got her room."

"It must be fun to have so much money. Everybody gets their own room," Byron remarked.

"Byron, it's really not polite to talk about money and whether one has it or not," she scolded.

He wrinkled his brow, confused. "But you do have it. You're rich."

"Yes, well, anyway. Our father gave Michaela the largest room. I never thought it was very fair. I was older, I should have gotten Rebecca's room. I fought with your mother about that for months."

"Me and Byron fight sometimes," Red Eagle said. "But then we say sorry."

"I doubt you fight as much as we did," Claudette replied. "One time she actually bit me, can you believe that? Yes, that's right. She always had such big, sharp teeth. She may have been younger but I was completely victimized by her."

"Gran'ma says you can't get along because you got red hair," Byron said, pointing at her head.

Claudette chuckled. "That was always her excuse." She sighed. "Well, how much more opera and restaurants do you think your parents can take? I've suddenly been demoted to the nanny while they paint the town red every night."

"Paint the town!" Byron exclaimed. "Why they painting the town?"

"Hey, I wanna help!" Red Eagle protested.

Claudette couldn't help bursting into giggles. "Oh, boys. Close your eyes and go to sleep. Goodnight."

"Night, Auntie," Red Eagle replied.

"Night, Auntie," Byron echoed, curling up on his side. "You're my most favorite, bestest auntie ever."

"Oh, stop it. Goodnight," she whispered, cupping her hand around their lamp and blowing it out.

"Martha has no control over them," Claudette griped as she reentered Elizabeth's room. "The boys were wide awake screaming and running around their room poised to break something again. It's a wonder your house is still standing with the likes of those children here."

Elizabeth chuckled as she pictured her rambunctious grandchildren. She delighted in knowing they were having a good time. What once might have upset her when her own daughters were that age and she was a young mother trying to run an orderly, respectable household without the help of her husband who was at the hospital or on rounds all the time, didn't phase her now that several decades had passed and she had become a very seasoned grandmother.

"What they need is boarding school," Claudette said firmly, picking up her teacup and taking a sip of tea. "Oh, it's gone cold."

"Boarding school?"

"Yes, give them some discipline, some rigidity," Claudette said resolutely.

"Well, I can't say as I ever thought much of that little school they go to in town. Or that Mexican teacher," she admitted.

"Instead of buying them all those toys and sweets and art supplies why don't you pay their tuition for a private school? Please tell me Colorado has at least a few of those. Let's hope it's not all one-room schoolhouses with sixteen-year-old teachers who barely have any education themselves."

"Well, perhaps I could look into it," Elizabeth said.

Claudette glanced at the ceiling with a start as they heard another loud thud from upstairs. "Mother, really!" she exclaimed. "You should have a talk with Martha. I don't know why she can't get a handle on them. I hate to say it but she's really lost her touch."

"Oh, calm down, Claudette," Elizabeth scolded. "You were just as rambunctious as a child with that red hair of yours. I was constantly reminding you to lower your voice or slow down or to stop torturing your poor little sisters. But you turned out all right."

"You must be confusing me with Michaela. I was never that bad and frankly, Mother, I can't believe you're not concerned about this!"

"That's the benefit of being a grandmother. I can let the parents worry about raising the children and I get to have all the fun with them. I must say I've come to rather enjoy this role-" Her breath suddenly caught in her throat and she let out a gasp. She reached for her right leg with both hands and cried out.

"Mother, what is it?" Claudette exclaimed, putting her teacup on the nightstand and touching Elizabeth's shoulder. "Mother!"

"My leg!" she cried. "Claudette, do something! Oh, my leg."

"Martha!" Claudette shouted frantically. She grabbed Elizabeth's hand. "Martha! Someone! Help us!"

Sully paused on the porch steps of the house and grasped Michaela's hand. "Thanks for comin' with me," he said.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," she replied.

He leaned forward and gave her a modest kiss.

He raised his eyebrows as they broke apart. "So, is this goodnight, or are ya gonna invite me up?"

"I don't know if that's proper. It is Boston after all," she replied, playing along.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Goodnight," he said, turning and stepping down from the step.

Michaela quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Get back here," she said with a giggle.

He laughed and kissed her again, then put his arm around her and ascended the porch, opening the door.

Harrison rushed to the foyer, quickly helping Michaela off with her wrap. "Thank goodness you're back. It's Mrs. Quinn!" he said urgently.

"What is it?" Michaela replied just as she heard a long, distressed cry coming from her mother's room. "Oh, no," she murmured. She and Sully hurried to Elizabeth's room. Claudette and Martha were on either side of Elizabeth's bed, helplessly holding her hands as she writhed in pain.

"There you are!" Claudette exclaimed. "Where have you been? I thought you were just going out to supper!"

Michaela grabbed her medical bag off the dresser and approached the bed. "Mother? Tell me what hurts."

Elizabeth was shutting her eyes tightly, gritting her teeth and barely able to speak. She was bathed in sweat. Sully instinctively grabbed a basin and cloth and filled the basin with a pitcher of water as Michaela drew down the covers.

"It must be something to do with her hip," Claudette blurted. "She says it's her leg. Fiona went to fetch Dr. Hanson an hour ago. I don't know what on earth could be taking that bungling girl so long. What is she doing, stopping for tea?"

Michaela touched her fingers to her mother's left leg but Elizabeth shook her head vehemently.

"No, it's the other leg. The other leg," Elizabeth stammered.

"The other leg?" Michaela replied, pulling up Elizabeth's nightgown to expose her right leg. She glanced at Claudette. "Did you try rubbing it for her?"

"No, I was afraid to touch her and make it worse."

Sully moved beside Martha and dabbed at the sweat on Elizabeth's brow with the cloth. "You'll be all right, Elizabeth. Just breathe. Michaela's got ya."

Michaela lifted the leg a little off the sheets and massaged the calf muscle firmly. "Is this any better, Mother?"

"That helps, that helps," Elizabeth murmured.

"Well, what is it? What's wrong?" Claudette demanded, glaring at Michaela.

"It could be a blood clot. I don't know," Michaela said, completely focused on her work. "Or it could simply be a muscle cramp. Just a charley horse. That's not uncommon when someone is bedridden."

"A blood clot? That sounds serious," Claudette said.

Michaela ignored her and gently grasped Elizabeth's foot, slowly flexing it back. "Mother, is this painful when I do this?"

"No, that's fine," Elizabeth replied.

"Good. And did the cramps start suddenly or more gradual?"

"Suddenly," Claudette said. "One minute she was fine and talking with me, the next she was screaming like a banshee."

"That's good. I mean, blood clots tend to set in more slowly. I don't see any swelling and she's not warm to the touch. And usually the skin has a bluish or whitish discoloration when it's a blood clot. I believe it's just a bad leg cramp. Unfortunately they can be rather painful, but they're harmless." She lifted the leg up higher as she continued to kneed the muscle. "Mother, I'm just going to elevate your leg a bit. Just try to relax."

"What should I do, Michaela?" Sully asked. "Would a warm compress help?"

She shook her head. "No, not yet. Applying heat can cause swelling or bring more blood to the muscle. We want the blood to flow away from it right now."

He nodded and continued to bathe Elizabeth's face with the cloth.

Michaela glanced at Martha. "Could you make her some tea?"

"Yes, miss," Martha said with a sigh, relieved to get away from all the commotion.

Martha left just as Harrison rushed into the room. "Dr. Hanson is here, madam."

"Finally!" Claudette exclaimed.

Michaela glanced at him. "Tell him Mother simply had a leg cramp. We won't be needing him."

"No, we're not sending him away after all this," Claudette protested. "I want Dr. Hanson to see Mother."

"She doesn't need to be poked and prodded at right now, Claudette," Michaela said. "She just needs rest."

"But he's her physician! You're always talking about getting a second opinion. I should have known that doesn't go both ways for you."

"Claudette, I value his opinion and under normal circumstances I would welcome it. But it's late and there's nothing he can do now that I can't."

"Well, this should be up to Mother," Claudette retorted. "Mother, tell Michaela you want to see your real doctor."

"Stop bickering like little children. You're giving me a headache," Elizabeth muttered. "I feel much better. I just want to sleep now. Harrison, please send Dr. Hanson away. Give him something for his trouble."

"Yes, Mrs. Quinn," he replied, spinning around.

Claudette stepped back, chastened. "Well, I can see I'm no longer needed."

Elizabeth slowly reached out and grasped her older daughter's hand. "Thank you for sitting with me, Claudette."

Claudette gave her brow a soft kiss. "I'm so glad you're doing better, Mother."

"Yes, thank you for being here, Claudette," Michaela added.

Claudette glared at her. "How could you just leave her like this?! She suffered here for hours while you were off enjoying yourselves! Well, I hope you had a nice evening!" She turned around and walked briskly out of the room.

Elizabeth sighed. "That child's temperament is about as bad as yours, Michaela. What did I do to deserve daughters like this?"

Michaela smiled softly, slowly lowering her leg back to the bed. "Is the pain gone now?"

"Yes, nearly."

"You just rest, Elizabeth," Sully instructed. "Michaela and me are here."

"Yes, we'll stay with you tonight," Michaela murmured, grasping her hand and squeezing it reassuringly.

Sully sat in a chair near Elizabeth's bed and put the finishing touches on a rough sketch of a new edition to the homestead. He had designed the windows very large to let in a lot of light and allow Elizabeth to see the mountains. And he had also made the doorway extra wide so that a stretcher or wheelchair could easily fit through.

He had stayed up most of the night with Michaela, assisting her with keeping Elizabeth comfortable and turning her every few hours. It was hard, thankless work, but he could see how much Michaela appreciated his help. He would slide his arms under Elizabeth's back and thighs and lift her up, being careful not to jostle her injured hip any more than necessary, and Michaela would smooth out the sheets and rearrange the pillows. They made a good team.

Michaela was stirring some powdered medicine in a glass with one hand and making some notes on Elizabeth's chart with another. It had been an exhausting night and she couldn't remember ever feeling so worn out, but she wasn't about to let on to her mother. Elizabeth needed her and she had every intention of being there for her.

"Michaela?" Elizabeth called.

Michaela turned to face her with a small smile. "Good morning, Mother. How does your leg feel today?"

"It doesn't hurt at all, thank heavens. What time is it?"

Michaela picked up the glass and walked to her. "It's only about seven. Here, drink your medicine."

Elizabeth eyed the glass distrustfully. "What is it?"

"Just a laxative."

"A laxative? I don't need that."

"As your doctor I think you do. According to your chart it's been four days since you've-"

"All right, all right. No need to go into the gory details in front of everyone," she said, glancing at Sully and grabbing the glass from her. She quickly drank it down with a small grimace.

Sully stood and put the sketch pad on his chair. "Ya wanna try sittin' up for a little bit, Elizabeth?"

"Oh, I suppose," she said with a sigh.

Sully grasped her under the arms and lifted her up and Michaela fluffed her pillows.

"What's that you have there?" Elizabeth asked, glancing at the sketch pad. "I didn't know you could draw."

Sully glanced at Michaela and she nodded her approval. He grabbed the sketch pad, handing it to her. "It's just some plans. I'm gonna add another room on to the homestead."

"It's about time," Elizabeth said. "That little homestead is bursting at the seams. It's a good thing you haven't had another baby. I didn't know where on earth you planned to put it." She glanced at Michaela, raising her eyebrows. "Michaela….does this mean you're…?"

"No, no," Michaela said, glancing at Sully. "That's not why we're adding on."

"This room's for you, Elizabeth," Sully explained.

"For me? I don't understand."

He leaned forward and pointed at the sketch. "We'll put a bed there, and we can fit a big table where we can keep everything ya need. Things like your medicines, towels, basins. A closet for your clothes." He pointed at the windows. "And I'm gonna make these real big to let in lots of light."

Michaela took her hand, squeezing it. "Mother, the truth is we can't stay here much longer. I know you've grown to depend on me and I love you and very much want to help you, believe me. But I just can't do that in Boston anymore."

"We wanna bring ya back to Colorado with us," Sully went on. "Care for ya out there."

"But I can't just leave Boston! This is my home."

"Well, it's not forever," Michaela said. "I know it's going to take a lot of work, but I think you can walk again. But I've come to believe that Boston is not where you're going to get better. I can't give you the kind of therapies here that I could give you in Colorado."

"But Boston has all the latest medical advances, all the best doctors," Elizabeth said fleetingly.

"Pretty good doctor in Colorado Springs, too," Sully said.

Elizabeth squeezed Michaela's hand. "Well, true enough."

"What Boston don't have is good fresh air, beautiful mountains," Sully added. "And things like the hot springs. We could even take ya out there at some point. Did me a lotta good when I got hurt and couldn't walk."

"And us," Michaela said. "Sully and I want to be there for you, Mother. Sully would build you this room and the two of us would care for you day and night. I'm sure Brian would want to help, too. And you would be around your grandchildren all the time. I know how much they've lifted your spirits since they've been here. And they just adore you. They'd be just thrilled to have you live with us."

"They certainly are precious," Elizabeth murmured.

Michaela cleared her throat. "Mother, there's another reason I want to bring you to Colorado. The truth is Claudette and Maureen and Rebecca don't think you're going to get better. They've all told me so. It's difficult for me to give you the kind of therapies I want to give you when I have them here all the time constantly telling me how horribly I'm mishandling your care."

"They have been rather hard on you, haven't they?" Elizabeth admitted.

"Well, they love you. They want what's best for you."

"And so do Michaela and me," Sully murmured, taking her other hand.

"Michaela and I," Elizabeth said out of habit.

He smiled softly. She was still the same Elizabeth.

"Mother, come to Colorado and live with us," Michaela said. "We can help you get better."

Elizabeth studied Sully's sketches a long moment. "My goodness, Sully. You're very talented. I had no idea."

Michaela smiled proudly. "That's where Byron gets his creativity from."

Elizabeth gazed at her solemnly. "Michaela, I'm not getting any better, am I?"

Michaela took a deep breath. "No," she admitted. "At least you've managed to avoid infection, and the bones appear to be fusing, but other than that there hasn't been any marked improvement since it happened."

Elizabeth let out a soft chuckle. "Your sisters, Michaela. They would be beside themselves at the thought of all this."

"Just tell 'em it was doctor's orders," Sully remarked. "Sides, they're welcome to visit any time."

Elizabeth sighed. "Well, when do you leave?"

"Three days," Michaela said. "We bought the tickets yesterday."

Elizabeth handed Sully back the sketch. "Give me three days then to think this over."

Michaela smiled hopefully. "Oh, Mother. Thank you for not saying no right away. You should give this a lot of thought."

"Yes, I plan to," she replied.

"Well, it looks to me like it's all in order," Edward remarked as he flipped through Elizabeth's Last Will and Testament. He puffed on his cigar pensively. "Of course I don't specialize in estate planning. We should probably discuss this with your attorney if you're having second thoughts. You could always write a codicil if you want to add anything."

"It's just I haven't looked at it since just after Josef passed away. That seems like ages ago now. I just want to be sure I haven't left anything out. That everything will be divided equally among my girls. I don't want any arguing about this once I'm gone. They argue enough as it is."

He inhaled deeply from his cigar. "It seems equitable to me. I think it was drafted very fairly. Besides, I know this attorney. Smitey's as competent as they come. A good ole Harvard boy. You can rest easy, Mother."

"Well, if you say so. You're the expert on these matters. Just make sure Maureen knows she gets the china."

"Yes, she knows, Mother. You've told her dozens of times. And Rebecca gets the silver. Claudette gets the piano forte and the grandfather clock. And Michaela gets Father's desk and the rest of his books. We all know."

"Humor an old woman," Elizabeth replied.

"When the time comes, we'll remember who is to get what. We won't argue," he replied reassuringly. "It's getting late. I should head home."

She nodded at the document. "Will you have Martha put that back in the safe for me?"

"Certainly," he replied, blowing a smoke ring into the air and then leaning over her to kiss her cheek. "Goodnight."

"Thank you for your help, Edward," Elizabeth added. "I'm glad there's at least one lawyer in the family."

"You're welcome, Mother. Sleep well." He exited the room, holding his cigar between his teeth.

"Gran'ma, Gran'ma!" Byron called moments later.

"Gran'ma!" Katie and Red Eagle echoed.

The children appeared in the doorway, dressed in their nightshifts, bathrobes and slippers.

Elizabeth immediately brightened. "Children. Come to say goodnight?"

"We want you to read us a bedtime story," Katie said, holding up a book. "Please?"

Elizabeth held her arm out to them. "What story?"

"Goldilocks," Katie said, climbing up onto the bed.

Elizabeth chuckled and stroked Katie's hair. "Oh, Goldilocks. Just like you, sweet Katie."

Katie giggled and cuddled up against her, opening the book for her.

"Pass me my spectacles, dear," Elizabeth said, nodding at the nightstand.

Katie reached across for the spectacles and handed them to her.

"How's your hip feel, Gran'ma?" Red Eagle asked.

"Oh, it's all right," Elizabeth said. "Though I still can't move without experiencing excruciating pain."

"But you can still read. That doesn't hurt, does it, Gran'ma?" Byron asked, clearing his throat and letting out a dry cough.

She smiled and slipped her spectacles over her ears. "Reading doesn't hurt at all! Now, let's see. 'Little Goldilocks was a pretty girl who lived once upon a time in a far-off country."

"Oh, I'll do that, miss," Martha said cheerfully as Michaela and Sully put some brightly colored blocks back into a canvas bag.

"Look at this playroom," Michaela said, glancing around the parlor at all the toy train cars, dolls, jackstraws, checker pieces and art supplies strewn all over the carpet. "It looks like a tornado came through here. I can't believe my children are responsible for this."

"They're no more untidy than you were at their age," the chambermaid replied, gathering a pile of paper dolls and putting them aside.

"I'm sorry, Martha. At home they know better than to leave their toys out," Michaela said. "I'm afraid you're spoiling them rotten."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" she replied with a wry smile. "Go on to bed now. I'll clean up. Go on."

Michaela and Sully reluctantly rose to their feet and left Martha to clean up after the children by herself.

"At least they're havin' fun here," Sully remarked as they headed to Elizabeth's room.

"Yes they are, aren't they?"

He put his arm around her and kissed her head. "I knew they would. They've really helped cheer up your ma, too."

She stopped short when she heard Byron coughing in Elizabeth's room. Sometimes Byron's asthma attacks came on suddenly, brought on by exertion, or being upset, or something in the air that was irritating him. But sometimes they were slower to develop, starting with a dry and persistent cough that she had learned to distinguish from a normal cough.

"'But the teeny tiny bear cried out in a teeny tiny voice, Who has been laying on my bed?'" Elizabeth read as the children giggled.

Michaela stood in the doorway. "Mother, why is he coughing like that?"

Elizabeth glanced up and lowered the book. "I don't know. He says he has a scratch in his throat."

"It's just a little tickle, Mama," Byron added, raising his hand up and coughing hard into it. "Come on, Gran'ma. Keep reading."

"I recognize that cough," Michaela said. "That's an asthma cough."

"No it's not," the little boy protested.

Michaela stepped into the room, brow narrowed. "Mother, it smells like a saloon in here! Was someone smoking?"

"Smoking?" Elizabeth replied, blinking. "Why, yes, actually. I believe Edward had a cigar. He was in here about ten minutes ago."

"Edward was smokin' in here?" Sully asked lividly.

"After I specifically asked him not to!" Michaela said furiously.

"Oh, no," Elizabeth said. "Do you mean Byron shouldn't be around smoke? Is that what's bothering him?"

Michaela nodded. "More than just bothering him. He's going to have a full-blown attack if he stays in here another minute."

"What do ya want me to do?" Sully asked worriedly.

"Take him out of here. Take him to the kitchen," Michaela instructed. "I'll get my medical bag and we'll give him a breathing treatment."

"Breathing treatment? No, Mama," Byron whimpered. "I don't wanna. Gran'ma, tell Mama I don't have to." His breath caught and he coughed violently.

"No, do your breathing treatment, dear," Elizabeth said, closing the book and patting his leg. "We'll finish the story when you feel better."

"Come on, son. Be a good boy," Sully soothed, picking him up and quickly carrying him out.

"Pour the water into the basin," Michaela instructed as she opened her medical bag and found a packet of herbs. She tore it open and dumped them all into the basin as Martha poured steaming water from a teakettle over the dried leaves.

Sully held Byron in his lap and rubbed his back as the little boy stared at the basin dejectedly.

"Lean over it, sweetheart. Breathe in the vapors," Michaela instructed, unfolding a towel and laying it over his head.

"There ya go," Sully said, pressing his hand to the towel. "Take some good deep breaths."

"Thank God I brought his medicine with me," Michaela murmured.

"What kind of medicine is it?" Martha asked. "It looks like leaves."

"It's an herb called mullein. It relaxes the lungs, opens everything up so he can breathe easily. He usually responds well to it."

"I hate how it smells," Byron spoke up from beneath the towel.

"Shh, just breathe," Sully instructed. "You're doin' good. We're proud of ya."

Michaela took out her stethoscope and pressed it to Byron's back. She listened to each of his lungs and then shifted to press the bell to his chest.

"I hear wheezing, but it's not too bad," she said, removing the stethoscope and putting it on the table.

"He gonna be all right?" Sully whispered.

"I think so. At least we caught it before it got any worse." She crouched down and held the little boy's hand, pressing her lips to it. "You're doing well, sweetheart. Take deep breaths. Mama loves you."

"Sorry about this, Mama," he whispered.

"Hush. It's certainly not your fault. Hush."

"Still can't believe he brought his cigars back into this house," Sully muttered.

"Neither can I." Michaela suddenly stood up. "Martha, get Edward on the telephone."

"Miss?"

"Get Edward on the telephone please. I want to speak to him immediately."

"Yes, miss," Martha said timidly, walking to the telephone and turning the crank. She spoke briefly with the operator, waited a long moment and then glanced at Michaela, holding out the receiver. "It's ringing, miss."

Michaela walked to her and pressed the receiver tightly to her ear. It rang several more times until someone finally picked up.

"Yes?" Edward said.

"Edward?" Michaela replied.

"Who is this?" Edward asked. "What's the meaning of this ringing us at this hour?"

"It's Michaela." She took a deep breath, face flushing with anger. "Byron's sitting here wheezing and coughing barely able to breathe because of you. How could you? How could you do this to my son?!"

"What in God's name are you talking about?"

"Your cigars!" she retorted. "You were smoking in Mother's room! And now Byron's having an asthma attack because of you!"

"Oh, Michaela, please. There's no way of really knowing what causes his little disorder. It could have been smoke, it could have been a change in the weather, in atmospheric pressure. Or there could be no rhyme or reason to it. Admit it, no one really knows."

"It's not a little disorder. It's been dominating his life since he was three. We were finally getting it under control. We were finally seeing some progress. He hasn't had an attack in four months. That's a milestone for him. Until you brought your filthy, disgusting cigars into the house!"

"Perhaps all the constellations lined up just right and that caused his little spasm."

Tears streamed down her face. "My child is sitting here struggling for every breath and it's all some big joke to you."

He sighed impatiently. "Michaela, step back and look at yourself. You want everyone to bow to your needs and wants. You've completely dominated every aspect of Mother's care since you've been here. You've taken over the house. And now you want everyone to bend over backwards because he's sensitive to every little thing that crosses his path. You and your family certainly aren't the easiest of houseguests, are you?"

"How dare you turn this around on me!"

"Michaela, what do you want me to do?" he retorted. "Is he all right? Does he need to go to the hospital?"

She swallowed hard. "He's fine. This time."

"There, then you see. I'll try not to smoke around him if you really do believe that's contributing to his problems, though I'm highly skeptical. Now please, it's very late and some of us have an office to be at in the morning. Goodnight." He promptly hung up on her before she could get another word in.

Michaela slowly lowered the receiver, heaving a sigh.

"Michaela? I think he's doin' better," Sully spoke up.

She reluctantly rejoined him at the table and removed the cloth from Byron's head. His face was damp from the steam and he was tired, but he had a rather adorable crooked smile on his face.

"All better, sweetheart?" Michaela whispered. She glanced at Sully, who hadn't stopped rubbing Byron's back. He was remaining calm and quiet for Byron's sake, but she could tell by the stern look in his eyes that he was fuming inside.

"Mama, how come you yelled at Uncle Edward?" Byron asked.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have. Mama's just upset, that's all." She kissed his head. "Mama and Papa don't want to hear you coughing like that."

He bit his lip. "Oh. Well, maybe you could cover your ears next time."

Sully smiled softly and smoothed back his hair.

"See, I can breathe good now," Byron said, demonstrating with a big, deep breath.

She drew him into her arms. "Oh, my precious little boy. Let's tuck you into bed, hm?"

"Night, Martha," Byron said sweetly as Michaela picked him up.

"Goodnight, dearie," Martha replied, giving him a little wave.

Michaela glanced at the chamber maid. "Martha, could you…?"

"I'll get everything cleaned up, not to worry, miss," Martha said, grabbing the basin and heading to the sink.

Sully put his arm around Michaela and together they carried the little boy up to his bedroom.

"How is he? Is he all right?" Elizabeth asked as Michaela and Sully entered her room.

Michaela carried a tray with a glass of water and some pills. "He's fine. He's sleeping now."

"I'm so sorry, Michaela. If I had known he'd react that way to smoke I never would have allowed Edward to light up in here."

"I just talked to Edward on the telephone. And I'm afraid I lost my temper."

"Nonsense, I would have to," Elizabeth said firmly. "We've all got to take Byron's asthma seriously. Oh, when I think of what could have happened!"

"Guess it's a good thing we got a doctor in the family," Sully murmured.

"A very good thing," Elizabeth added, taking the pills from the tray and swallowing them down with a small sip of water. She looked up at Michaela pensively. "In fact that's all I've been thinking about the past few days, how lucky I am to have a doctor for a daughter."

Michaela smiled softly and touched her shoulder. "I'll help you lay down, Mother, so you can go to bed."

Sully joined Michaela at the bed, poised to assist where needed.

Elizabeth held up one hand. "Not yet, we need to talk first. Sit down. Both of you."

They shared a glance and slowly sat on the edge of her bed.

"I'm not ready for you to go back to Colorado Springs yet, Michaela, you know that," Elizabeth began. "But obviously you are. So I'd like to accept your offer and go with you."

Michaela beamed. "Oh, Mother. That's wonderful!"

"You'll be surprised how fast you'll get better out there, Elizabeth," Sully added.

"Well, we'll see about that. I suppose it can't be any worse than things here."

"I'll wire Brian tomorrow, have him get a start on buildin' your room," Sully said.

"Yes, about my room. I'd like to pay for the supplies, and compensate you for your labor. After all, the room's for me. How much will it come to?"

"Hard to say. But I don't want ya givin' me money, Elizabeth. I'm gonna build this room for you, as our gift to you. I can't be paid for that."

"Sully, at least let me pay for the supplies. After all, I'm going to be the one using it. Please, I insist."

He sighed, glancing at Michaela who nodded her approval.

"All right. I guess so," he said.

"And I want to contribute to the household expenses. I'm going to be your tenant, and it's only fair that I give you thirty dollars every month."

"You're not a tenant. You're my mother," Michaela protested.

"Please, Michaela, you can't support me, too! Not on your income. No, I won't have it. I want to continue to support myself just as your father intended. He never wanted either of us to be a burden on our daughters or their husbands should something happen to the other."

"But thirty dollars a month? This is Colorado, not Boston," Sully added. "I'd say five dollars is plenty."

"And I'd say five dollars is ludicrous, Colorado Springs or not. Fifteen," Elizabeth countered.

"Ten," Sully replied.

"Oh, fine. Ten on the first of every month," Elizabeth replied. "Don't worry, I'm not going to be a leech. You have your children to take care of."

"Leech? Mother, how could you even dream of such a thing?" Michaela said.

"I just don't want to disrupt your family, that's all," Elizabeth said. "You have such young children who have needs just as important as mine, if not more so."

"Everyone's needs will be met. Don't worry. And you're our family too," Michaela said. "Oh, Mother, wait until we tell them. They're going to be ecstatic."

"I'll have to tell your sisters first," Elizabeth replied. "And I think it's safe to say they won't be quite as happy about this as my grandchildren are probably going to be."

Claudette arranged some bright white carnations in a vase on the dresser and Rebecca and Maureen pulled up chairs to the bed and sat down.

"You look well today, Mother," Maureen said with a smile.

"Thank you, dear. I feel well," Elizabeth replied.

"These flowers are from the charity flower show board of directors," Claudette told her. "They wrote you a lovely note telling you how sorry they are you're laid up."

"Oh, Ruth was probably just giddy that she got to take my place as chairwoman this year. She's been waiting for me to die for years."

"Mother," Rebecca scolded.

"Yes, you're not dying, Mother," Claudette added, walking to the bed.

"No, I'm afraid I am," Elizabeth replied. "At least I am in Boston."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Claudette asked, shaking her head.

"I asked you all to come here because I have some important news to tell you. You all know how much I've relied on Michaela since she's been here. I even asked her to stay on in Boston and care for me."

"Her bedside manner is wonderful," Rebecca remarked. "I'd want her as my physician any day."

"Did Michaela finally see the light and agree to stay?" Maureen asked. "I must admit it'd be nice to have all of us together again in Boston. Just like when we were younger."

"Mr. Sully doesn't exactly fit in around here," Claudette said cynically. "I can't picture him being very happy here."

"No, they aren't going to stay on. I never really thought they would," Elizabeth said. "So when they leave tomorrow, I'm going to go with them."

Claudette chuckled in disbelief. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Michaela and Sully are going to bring me back to Colorado and are going to care for me there. Sully's even building me my own room downstairs."

Claudette looked at her older sisters. They were just as flabbergasted as she was.

"But…but you can't go to Colorado!" Claudette exclaimed. "Mother, what's come over you!?"

Maureen leaned forward and touched Elizabeth's brow. "She's not thinking clearly. I think she's a bit feverish. She's in no state to be making decisions like this."

"Nonsense, I'm thinking perfectly clear," Elizabeth retorted. "I love Boston. I've lived here all my life. But Michaela thinks I could recover better in Colorado Springs."

"Oh, yes, no matter what any of us think," Maureen retorted, rising to her feet.

"Exactly how long do you plan on staying there, Mother?" Rebecca asked.

"Well, I have no idea. It might be several months. No doctor seems to be able to predict how long my recovery may take. They all just know it's going to be a long time."

"Months?!" Claudette cried. "Is she mad? She can't keep you out there for months!"

"You won't even survive the trip," Maureen said. "She's going to kill you with this ridiculous scheme of hers."

"Michaela's made arrangements to have a private car. I'll have a nice bed and my own room. She assures me I'll be very comfortable."

"Oh, Mother, we would miss you so terribly," Rebecca said tearfully.

"Well, Michaela and Sully would welcome visitors from home any time," Elizabeth replied bravely.

"That's your answer? We can always visit?" Maureen replied. "Well, I can tell you right now Edward would never allow me to go out there. As it is he thinks it's a wonder Michaela hasn't been scalped by Indians by now."

Claudette walked to the bed. "She can't do this! She can't do this!" she exclaimed. "She can't just whisk you off to Colorado just like that for God knows how long! We'll never see you again!"

Michaela suddenly entered the room with a warm teakettle. She stopped as all three of her sisters turned to look at her decisively.

Michaela smiled uncomfortably. "What?"

"How could you, Michaela!" Claudette said, storming up to her. "You show up back here after what, ten years since your last visit? Only to just whisk Mother off to that Godforsaken place without a thought for how any of us feel. Well, she's our mother, too! We're the ones who have been here for her all this time, not you! You hardly ever write us, you could care less about us, you never wanted Mother to visit until now. You're so selfish."

"Claudette, stop it!" Elizabeth snapped. "Michaela has been caring for me day and night these past several weeks. She's working very hard to help me get better."

"Don't you see, Mother?" Claudette replied. "Dr. Hanson says people your age don't recover from something like this. She thinks she's going to perform miracles out there. She thinks she's some kind of saint. Well, I say she's done more harm than good and I forbid this!"

"Claudette, we have things out in Colorado that could benefit Mother-" Michaela began.

"Don't talk to me," Claudette spat back. "I can't stand the sight of you, the very thought of you. If you take her away from us I'll never speak to you again! We won't be sisters anymore!" She spun around and stormed out of the room.

"Claudette!" Michaela called helplessly.

"Claudette!" Elizabeth echoed.

Michaela cleared her throat. "I take it you told them," she murmured.

"How could you do this, Michaela?" Maureen said tearfully, getting up and exiting the room.

Rebecca put on her bravest face. "Well, like Mother said, we can always visit."

"Oh, of course," Michaela said. "All of you can come out anytime. Sully even said so."

"How long is this going to take, Michaela?" Rebecca asked unsteadily. "Realistically."

Michaela swallowed hard. "If I had to guess? Six months to a year. It's only a guess."

Rebecca looked at Elizabeth tearfully. "A year."

"It's a very serious fracture," Michaela explained softly.

Elizabeth stared forward stoically. "It would be nice if you could take on Martha as part of your staff when I'm gone. I'll continue to pay her wages from my savings."

"Certainly, Mother. I could use her," Rebecca said softly, eyes welling with tears as it all began to sink in. "Excuse me."

Michaela watched her go, then slowly sat on the bed. "They hate me."

"They hate me is who they hate," Elizabeth replied.

"Perhaps this is a mistake. I don't mean to break apart our family."

"Oh, Michaela. They're been strife in this family for ages. But we've always managed to muddle through. I suppose it's the nature of having all girls. Lots of emotions flying around. I'm glad you managed to have some boys. They're much easier."

Michaela smiled softly. "I don't know about that."

Elizabeth squeezed her hand. "I don't know if I'm doing the right thing. But I suppose it can't be any worse than staying in this stuffy room all the time watching everyone feel sorry for me. Please tell Martha to start packing my things. I want to be ready."

Michaela sipped at her tea solemnly at the dining room table. She lowered the cup as Sully padded down the stairs and joined her.

"Fast asleep," he remarked.

"Good. Thank you," she replied. She grasped the china kettle beside her. "Do you want some tea?"

"No thanks." He took a seat across from her as Martha walked into the room holding an envelope.

"Telegram for you," she said, handing it to Michaela.

"Thank you, Martha," Michaela said, quickly opening it as Martha went back to the kitchen.

"From Brian?" Sully asked.

"Yes. He says he and Matthew are going to put one of the recovery beds from the clinic in the sitting room. And they're going to start on sawing some boards for Mother's new room."

"That'll be a big help," he remarked.

"I suppose I'm glad he stayed behind, as much as I've missed him. I've never once worried about things at home with him there. And now he can get the homestead ready for Mother so we won't have to do too much once we get there."

She folded the telegram and sighed sadly.

"What?" he whispered.

She met his eyes reluctantly. "I just wish my sisters weren't so angry with me about this. I feel like Mother's come between us."

"Ain't like ya got along too good with them before. Except Rebecca."

"I know. It's just every time I see them I always hope things will be different. That perhaps we'll have the kind of relationship I've always wanted. And every time I'm disappointed. Am I being unrealistic, Sully? Hoping for something that will never be?"

"I don't know. Maybe. But look at you and your ma. Ya got under each other's skin for years. But now you're pretty close. Close enough that she's even gonna come live with us. Guess there's a lot to be said for not givin' up on folks."

"I suppose that's true," she admitted.

"Just don't wanna see ya waste too much strength on women like Maureen and Claudette when ya got a lotta other folks who need ya right now."

"Yes, you're right. I suppose all I can do right now is try not to dwell on what they think too much."

"Sounds like a good idea to me," he said, wrinkling his brow as someone banged on the front door knocker violently. They heard Harrison rush across the front entryway to open the door.

"Where is she?" Edward demanded.

Sully stood as Edward stormed into the room, face flushed and brow bathed in sweat.

"Maureen's at home bawling her eyes out!" he accused, glaring at Michaela. "It took me an hour to calm her down enough to explain! What is all this about taking Mother to Colorado Springs? You can't be serious."

Michaela glanced at Sully nervously. "We're serious, Edward. I think Mother could recover much better out there and she says she wants to go."

"This is absurd," he accused. "This is utterly ridiculous. She can't travel! Even if she makes it out there you'll expose her to a myriad of fatal diseases. With as frail as she is she'll be dead in a week. Have you talked to her doctor about this? I mean her real doctor. Dr. Hanson."

"As a matter of fact I haven't. I know what he's going to say. His prognosis for her has always been less than bleak. He gave her six months to live. What do we really have to lose here?"

"Dr. Hanson saved her life," he retorted. "And you are going to kill her! Just like you killed Marjorie!"

She stood angrily. "I'm afraid this isn't your decision, Edward. Mother's coming to Colorado Springs of her own free will and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Michaela, what's happened to you?!" he exclaimed. "You've turned into such a rustic quack. You realize you're the laughing stock of all of Boston high society and a disgrace to your father's good name. Marrying this mountain man drifter here and shunning traditional medicine for all those Indian potions and calling some bastard half breed your son."

"Hey," Sully suddenly spoke up, taking a step forward. "Ya watch what ya say about him."

Edward glanced at him briefly. "I should have known you'd be sensitive about this. Must be difficult to know everyone here thinks your little wife was raped by savages. Or was it consensual? Was she begging for more?"

Sully took a big step toward him, raised his arm and punched him hard in the mouth, sending Edward reeling backwards.

"Sully! No!" Michaela cried.

"Stay out of this!" he retorted.

Edward quickly composed himself and raised his fists, lunging at Sully and punching him across his cheek. Sully fell backwards against the table, knocking over the teakettle and cups and sending them crashing to the floor.

"Stop it!" Michaela pleaded, struggling to grab Sully's arm. He broke free from her and went right back at Edward, pushing him against the wall. "Sully!"

"Martha, help me!" Michaela pleaded.

Martha was too shocked to move. She gasped as Edward struck Sully in the nose.

"Harrison!" Michaela shouted frantically. "Harrison!"

Sully grabbed Edward's lapels and pushed him even harder against the wall. "I let it go that ya gave my son an asthma attack," he said vehemently. "And I let it go when ya insulted me. But I ain't gonna let ya insult my wife!"

Harrison suddenly ran into the room and struggled to pry apart the men. "All right, enough of this. Enough!"

Michaela quickly joined him and grabbed Sully's arm, pulling him back with all her strength. "Sully, please stop," she begged. "Please stop!"

"This is still Mrs. Quinn's household! I won't have this kind of behavior under her roof!" Harrison shouted. "Stop this at once!"

Sully reluctantly let go of Edward and backed up, eyeing him fervently and panting.

Edward pulled out his handkerchief and pressed it to his bloody lip. He looked fiercely at Michaela. "Take her to Colorado. But you'll regret this. You will regret this!"

He spun around and Harrison held onto his arm and guided him out the front door, slamming it after him.

Michaela let out her breath and then turned to Sully, reaching her hand up to gently graze her fingers over his wounds.

"Martha, could you bring me my medical bag? It's upstairs."

Martha nodded and scurried past them, relieved to get away.

"Sit down," Michaela instructed, guiding Sully to a chair.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

"How could you?" she breathed. "He's supposed to be our brother-in-law."

"Didn't ya hear what he was sayin'? He's got no right," he replied in disbelief. He rested his hands on his knees, catching his breath. "Folks around here seem to think all they gotta do is put on some fancy suit and they can say whatever they want. Well, I ain't gonna have him talk to ya that way."

She took out her handkerchief and dabbed at the trickle of blood from his left nostril. Tears suddenly appeared in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks unchecked.

"Hey, it's all right," he soothed. "It's gonna be all right."

She shook her head. "Sully, I'm tearing my family apart."

He caressed her face, smoothing away some of her tears. "Not us. Not you and me and the kids. We're as strong as ever. That's what's most important."

Michaela tossed a bit in bed and pulled the covers tightly around her. Her teeth were chattering and her entire body was trembling. She slowly opened her eyes and looked at the red embers in the fireplace.

"Sully?" she called hoarsely. "Sully, could you build up the fire?"

After a moment he rolled over to face her, half asleep. "Mm?"

"Sully, I'm freezing. Could you build up the fire?" She clutched the covers even tighter to her neck.

He opened his eyes and touched her shoulder. He removed his hand in confusion. "Michaela, you're soaked!" he breathed.

She pushed back the covers a bit and looked down. "What on earth?" she murmured in disbelief. Her nightgown was drenched and she was laying on a large damp spot on the sheets. Even her pillow was wet where her head had been. It was no wonder she was cold. Sully lit the lamp beside him and turned it up as high as it would go, then shifted back around to get a better look at her.

"What happened?" he asked, smoothing back some damp wisps of hair clinging to her brow.

"I have no idea. I just woke up a moment ago freezing."

"Let me get ya a fresh nightgown," he said, getting out of bed and walking to the wardrobe. He opened it and pulled out another nightgown, and then paused in front of the fireplace, dropping a few more logs onto the embers.

She unbuttoned her wet nightgown. "I must have gotten overheated during the night," she said timidly.

He joined her at the bed and helped her slip it over her head. Her chest and arms were just dripping with cool sweat. He quickly went to the vanity and grabbed the hand towel off it, returning to the bed and drying her off a bit. "Maybe we should get a doctor. Ya might be comin' down with the grippe or somethin'," he said a bit worriedly, running the towel down each of her arms.

"No, no. I feel fine otherwise." She took the clean nightgown from him and slipped into it, buttoning it up.

He rubbed her arms vigorously. "How's this? Ya warmin' up?"

"Yes, better."

"Ya wanna take a bath? I'll heat some water."

She looked down, biting her lip. "No. But the sheets need to be changed."

"Want me to get Martha?"

"No, don't wake her. I'll do it."

"Let me help. Where's she keep the clean sheets?"

She got out of bed. "In the hallway closet. Two doors down."

"I'll be right back," he said, opening their door.

"I'm sorry, Sully," she said, grabbing her pillow and pulling off the pillowcase. "I don't know what happened."

"Hey, it's all right. Just wanna be sure you ain't sick."

"I'm fine," she said, giving him a small, reassuring smile.

"Good morning, Martha," Michaela said quietly, a laundry basket tucked under her arm.

Martha was stirring a large pot of porridge on the stove. Her face looked drawn and she certainly wasn't acting like her usual cheery self. "Good morning, miss."

Michaela put the basket on the table. "Could you wash my bedclothes, please?" she asked shyly.

Martha glanced at the basket briefly. Michaela was certain she was wondering why she wanted the sheets cleaned again when wash day was only yesterday, but the chambermaid was never one to pry. "Yes, miss. Straight after breakfast."

"Thank you." She paused. "I assume Mother's told you everything by now."

"Yes, miss," Martha said bravely, taking down a stack of bowls. "I'm to pack my things and move to Miss Rebecca's tomorrow."

"I'm so sorry, Martha. You must be terribly angry with me."

"Oh, Miss Michaela," Martha said, suddenly bursting into tears. "I know you just want her to get better. I can't blame you for that."

"Oh, Martha," Michaela said, stepping toward her and drawing her into a hug. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Now, now," she chastised. "I'll be all right. Don't worry about me."

"I didn't think about the fact that you'd be losing your job when I asked Mother to move to Colorado. I feel terrible. After all you've done for us. Fiona and Harrison and everyone, too."

She dabbed at her tears with a hanky. "I'm not losing my job. Mrs. Quinn has always taken good care of me. She's made sure I'll have a good home at Miss Rebecca's until she can come back."

"Perhaps you could even come visit," Michaela suggested, pulling back and clutching her shoulders. "When Rebecca comes out."

She chuckled. "I'd certainly be a fish out of water out there, the way Mrs. Quinn describes it!"

Michaela kissed her cheek. "I love you, Martha. I wish we could take you with us."

"You often forget I'm just the servant. You need to put your mother's needs first," she said sensibly. "Now run along with you, get out of the kitchen before Mrs. Quinn finds out you've been in here. You know how she hates that. Breakfast will be served in five minutes."

Michaela nodded and slowly headed to the swinging door. She paused. "She's going to miss you, Martha. More than she would ever care to admit."

Martha smiled softly. "She'll be back. It's not forever."

Byron and Red Eagle gathered around Elizabeth's phonograph in the parlor as Katie wound up the crank.

"Be careful with it. Don't wind it too tight," Byron instructed.

"I won't," she protested.

"Let me do it," Byron said, moving to stand next to her.

"No, it's my turn!" Katie replied as someone knocked on the front door.

Harrison quickly walked to the door from the dining room and opened it.

"Miss Claudette," he said politely, taking her shawl and purse.

Byron looked up with a big smile. "Aunt Claudie!" he cried, running to her and giving her an enthusiastic hug.

"Yes, yes, good morning," she muttered, yanking off her lace gloves and giving them to Harrison.

"Wanna come play with Gran'ma's phonograph with us? We're listening to Chop-en."

"Who?"

"Chop-en. He wrote pretty music. Come listen."

"Oh, good gracious. It's pronounced Chopin, Byron. Chopin."

He blinked. "…Oh."

"And I don't have time for games right now. I'm here to speak with your grandmother and I would appreciate it if you gave us some time alone. In other words you're not to barge in like you're usually apt to do." She quickly crossed the parlor and headed to Elizabeth's room.

"I'll go tell Mama she's here," Red Eagle said, racing up the stairs.

Red Eagle found Michaela and Martha in Elizabeth's master bedroom, meticulously packing several trunks with Elizabeth's nightgowns, stockings, toiletries and a few gowns Michaela hoped she would soon feel well enough to wear.

"Is all that Gran'ma's?" Red Eagle asked, eyes wide.

Michaela glanced up briefly as she folded a nightgown. "Yes. We have a lot to pack."

"Aunt Claudie's here, Mama," he told her.

Michaela raised her eyebrows, surprised. "Oh, she is?"

He nodded. "Downstairs."

Michaela glanced at Martha questioningly.

"Perhaps she's come around. She never stays angry very long," Martha spoke up as she laid Elizabeth's comb and brush in one of the trunks.

"Will you help Martha for a few minutes, Red Eagle?" Michaela asked, heading toward the door.

"Sure, Mama," he said, brushing past her and joining Martha.

"I was up all last night thinking about what to do about this," Claudette said as she sat in a chair beside Elizabeth.

"Oh, Claudette. Don't lose sleep over me," Elizabeth scolded.

"I've come to the conclusion that Michaela may have a point. Perhaps staying here isn't the best thing for you."

Elizabeth looked at her with amazement. "Oh. Then you understand why I want to go out there."

"Yes, you just don't want to have to rely on strangers. Well, I have the perfect solution and it doesn't involve spending four days on a train to get there. I can't believe I didn't think of this before."

"What's that?"

"You could move in with me instead!" Claudette said with a bright smile. "I'll look after you."

"Move in with you? Oh, Claudette. I can't do that."

"Why ever not? I have plenty of room. I can have my maid make up the parlor into a sick room. And she'll help me care for you, too."

"Dolly? That little waif of a thing who can barely pick up a tea set? How is she going to turn me every night and help me sit up and lay down and everything else that needs to be done?"

"I'll do that. I'm capable."

"Claudette, Michaela knows how to take care of someone in my condition. How to prevent bed sores and handle those leg cramps I get and how to keep me in good health even though I have to stay in bed all day. And she can examine me and help me do my exercises and prescribe my medications. She has a plethora of experience behind her. I feel safe with her."

Claudette swallowed hard. "You don't feel safe with me, Mother? Do you think I'd ever let anything happen to you?"

"Of course not. I just mean that your sister is a doctor. And as much as I hate to admit it, I think my rather grave condition warrants the help of a real doctor right now."

Claudette lowered her head, disappointed.

"I don't like this any more than you do," Elizabeth murmured. "I'm only doing this because there's nothing I can say to keep Michaela in Boston. If she won't stay, then I have to go with her."

Michaela rapped lightly on Elizabeth's door and slowly opened it. She cleared her throat. "Claudette?" she began timidly. "I was thinking perhaps just you and I could go to the Union Oyster House for lunch today. We could talk about this."

Claudette ignored her and focused on smoothing her skirts.

Michaela stepped toward her. "Claudette?"

"Tell Michaela I have no interest in anything of the sort," Claudette said, glancing at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked back at her with confusion.

"Tell her, Mother," Claudette said firmly.

"She says no thank you," Elizabeth spoke up helplessly.

Claudette got up, smoothing her skirts. "I have some business to attend to at home. Good day, Mother."

"Goodbye, dear," Elizabeth said fleetingly.

Michaela followed Claudette out of the room. Claudette walked past the children in the parlor without glancing at them and headed straight to the front door.

"Harrison! Harrison! Where are you?" Claudette shouted.

Harrison hurried over to her. "Yes, miss?"

"My effects? Get them!"

"Oh. Yes, miss!" he replied.

Byron got up from the sofa and ran to Claudette. "You're leaving, Auntie? I wanted you to stay and listen to the phonograph with us."

"Claudette, we can't part like this," Michaela said desperately.

Harrison returned with Claudette's shawl, gloves and purse. He tried to unfold her shawl over her shoulders but she quickly snatched it from him and grabbed her purse. She found her gloves and jerked them back on.

"Claudette, please don't do this. Please talk to me," Michaela said, shaking her head.

Claudette looked at Byron. "Tell your mother I'll speak to her when she abandons this outlandish plan of hers. Until then I have no desire whatsoever to have even the most basic of conversations."

Byron wrinkled his brow. "Uh, I don't think she wants to talk to you, Mama," he murmured.

"Will you talk to Sully? Will you at least do that?" Michaela asked. "He could help you understand why we want to do this."

"Mama wants to know if you'll talk to Papa," Byron spoke up.

Claudette glared down at the little boy. "Tell her he's the last person I want to discuss my mother's care with. It's partly his fault you all are even in Colorado. He's just as responsible for all this as she is."

"Auntie says-" Byron began, but Michaela quickly cut him off, stepping forward and grasping his shoulder.

"All right, that's enough," she said firmly. "I don't care if you don't want to speak to me, but I don't want you involving my children in this, too."

Claudette narrowed her eyes at Michaela vehemently and spun around. Harrison quickly reacted and opened the door for her, shutting it very quietly after her as if to make up for what had just happened.

Michaela walked to the sofa and sunk down into it, devastated. Byron quickly followed her and Katie abandoned the phonograph to sit beside her. A melancholy Chopin Nocturne was playing quietly on the phonograph.

"Why's Aunt Claudie so mad at you, Mama?" Byron whispered. "What'd you do?"

"What's wrong, Mama?" Katie added.

"Auntie's just very upset right now," she explained. "She's going to miss Grandma when we bring her to Colorado."

Byron rested his hands in his lap. "Oh. That's why she's mad."

"You need a hug, Mama?" Katie whispered.

"Oh, yes indeed," she murmured with a smile, drawing them both into her arms and kissing their heads. "I'm so glad you're here, did I tell you that?"

"Me, too," Byron replied.

"And I'm so glad we're going home," she added, holding them all the closer.

Rebecca held her parasol over her head as she and Michaela strolled somberly down a path in the Public Garden.

"How long do you suppose it will take Sully to build that room?" Rebecca asked.

"With all of us helping I'm hoping only a few weeks," Michaela replied.

"That long train ride," she said worriedly. "What if something happens and you're in the middle of Missouri or Kansas or some such remote place?"

"Trains have become much more comfortable in recent years. She'll have her own private car and I'll watch her all day. I don't see what could go wrong. I don't think we have anything to worry about."

"Oh, Michaela, I wish you could stay on longer."

"So do I, Rebecca, believe me. But the children need to get back to school. And I have my patients. Not to mention how much we all miss Brian and Matthew and everyone back at home."

"I know. You need to get home. You're right."

"Popped corn, ladies?" a vendor asked as he held out a paper bag of the salty treat.

"No thank you," Rebecca replied.

Michaela bit her lip. "Rebecca? Do you mind if I ask you something rather personal? Don't feel you have to answer if you'd rather not."

Rebecca glanced at her with a smile. "Nonsense, Michaela. We're sisters. We can talk about anything. Ask away."

"Well, I was wondering. How old were you when you went through the change?"

"You mean the…?" Rebecca paused, a little taken aback. "Oh. Well, let me see. I suppose I started to notice something different when I was about fifty. But I was surprised that it seemed to take quite awhile. I was probably nearly fifty-three when it was all said and done."

"Oh," she replied quietly.

Rebecca glanced at her in disbelief. "Michaela, you couldn't possibly….but you're far too young! Why, you're only…."

"Forty-five," Michaela said with a sigh. "It's on the younger side but it's not impossible."

"Are you having irregular monthlies? That's what I experienced at the beginning."

She nodded solemnly. "Among other strange symptoms."

"Experiencing bouts where you feel rather warm?" Rebecca asked hesitantly.

She nodded shyly as they approached a bench and sat down on it.

Rebecca folded her parasol and rested it across her lap. "Well, perhaps it is the change. Or at least the first indications of it."

Michaela folded her hands in her lap. "When this happened to you, did you feel, well, frightened?"

"Well, it can be a little frightening at first," Rebecca admitted. "But you know, eventually I actually felt rather liberated so to speak. It's a relief to never have to hassle with the monthly again." She smiled and patted her sister's hands. "And I don't have to worry about becoming with child anymore. Makes certain things a bit more relaxing, hm?"

Michaela smiled appreciatively. Her sister was always able to find the positive side of everything. She swallowed hard. "Sully and I, we wanted to have another baby after Jack passed on. At least we were trying for a little while. But…it didn't happen. I suppose now it's never going to happen."

"It must not have been meant to be. Besides, you have Red Eagle now. Michaela, you should see a doctor if you're concerned. You could make an appointment with Dr. Hanson before you leave."

"About this? He'll laugh me right out of his office. Did you see a doctor when this happened to you?"

"Well, no. But I was positive what was happening. You don't seem so certain."

"No, I'm fairly certain now," she said. "It all makes sense. I suppose I was just a little reluctant to acknowledge it."

"We're always so afraid of any kind of change," Rebecca said. "I'm afraid to let Mother go. No doubt Mother's afraid herself. But change can be good sometimes." She squeezed Michaela's arm. "You're just entering the next stage of womanhood. You're lucky you've always had an older sister who can tell you what to expect along the way."

"I am lucky," Michaela said with a grin. "You've always been here for me when it came to anything like this. As I recall I ran to you when I first started getting my monthly."

"Yes, who do you think I can talk to about these matters? Certainly not Mother!"

Michaela chuckled. "Can you see her face if I tried to talk to her about this? Or anything to do with womanhood."

Rebecca laughed. "She'd be red as a tomato. That's our mother. I'm certainly going to miss her."

"Come visit Mother and all of us in Colorado, Rebecca," she replied. "Promise you will."

"I think I will. Perhaps this summer."

Michaela embraced her gratefully, glad to be on good terms with at least one of her sisters.

Martha blew her nose as tears poured down her cheeks. She was standing beside Elizabeth's bed, holding her hand.

"Oh, Martha. Come, come. You're going to get me going too if you keep that up," Elizabeth scolded.

"I'm sorry, mum," Martha replied. "It's just, I've been with you since you were just a girl home from your honeymoon. I'm going to miss you just dreadfully."

"Well, I'll miss you, too," Elizabeth admitted. She took a deep breath, swallowing some pride. "You've been a fine chambermaid, Martha. You've been by my side through everything important that's ever happened to me. The births of my daughters, Josef's death, Michaela's move out West. You're about as loyal as they come. Thank you."

Martha started crying harder. She always knew Elizabeth appreciated her hard work, but she had never actually thanked her until today. She was overcome with emotion. "Oh, please, mum, don't waste away out there. I fear this is goodbye forever."

"Nonsense. As soon as I can get myself around a little better I'll come back. You know how I feel about Colorado and its amenities, or lack thereof. I won't stay long."

Sully and Harrison carried a stretcher into the room, followed by Michaela, Rebecca and Maureen.

"It's time to go, Mother," Michaela said. "We'll miss our train."

"Where's Claudette?" Elizabeth asked. "Isn't she coming to say goodbye?"

Rebecca hesitated. "She isn't here, Mother."

Elizabeth sighed and looked out the window as Sully and Harrison came to the bed and laid the stretcher beside her.

"We're just gonna lift ya onto here, Elizabeth," Sully said. "You just stay nice and still." He pulled back the covers and slid his strong arms beneath her, hoisting her onto the stretcher. Then he and Harrison grasped the ends of the stretcher and lifted it up.

"Harrison, I don't know about that back of yours. You're older than you want to believe and I'm heavier than I want to believe," Elizabeth said.

"We have you, Mrs. Quinn," Harrison said resolutely. "We won't drop you."

"You'd better not drop me or you're fired, too," Elizabeth remarked.

He smiled softly as Michaela stepped forward and covered Elizabeth with a warm blanket.

"Ready, Mother?"

Elizabeth glanced at her older daughters. "Tell Claudette I said goodbye."

"Yes, Mother," Maureen said sadly.

"All right, I'm ready," Elizabeth murmured.

Harrison and Sully carried the stretcher out of the room into the parlor and headed toward the front door. Michaela hurried ahead and opened it for them, guiding them outside.

The children were waiting eagerly outside near the horses. A carriage was packed full with Elizabeth and the family's luggage. Parked in front of it was a fancy buckboard where Michaela had placed a thin mattress and several blankets and pillows in the back so Elizabeth would be comfortable on the short ride.

"This way, Papa!" Byron directed, waving his hand. "Careful on those steps!"

Sully and Harrison carried Elizabeth to the buckboard and settled her in back. Rebecca and Maureen approached the buckboard to say one final goodbye. Bored with the endless farewells, Byron and Red Eagle discovered a patch of mud and began poking a stick in it. Katie held Michaela's skirts as Michaela finally hugged her sisters.

"We'll wire you in St. Louis when we change trains," Michaela said, stepping toward the second carriage as her sisters followed.

"Take good care of her, Michaela. Please," Rebecca said.

"This is the right thing to do, Rebecca. I know it is," Michaela replied.

Rebecca nodded solemnly.

"I'll never forgive you if something happens to her," Maureen said resolutely. "She'll sooner die of a broken heart away from her home and family. Mark my words."

"We're her family, too," Michaela whispered, squeezing Katie's hand.

"A family who has never been there for her until now," Maureen retorted. "Claudette was right."

"Maureen, what's done is done," Rebecca said. "Let's just say our farewells and be through with all this."

Michaela put her arm around Katie. "Say goodbye to your aunties, sweetheart."

"Where's Aunt Claudie?" Katie asked.

"She couldn't make it. Say goodbye," Michaela told her staunchly.

"Bye-bye," Katie whispered.

Rebecca crouched down and kissed the child's cheeks. "Goodbye, sweet Katie."

"Well, all I can say is she looks just like you," Maureen said, glaring at Michaela. She gave her niece a small kiss. "Goodbye, dear. You'll have to remember me because as often as your mother visits I'll be on my deathbed myself before we see each other again."

"Get in the carriage, sweetheart," Michaela said, turning and giving Katie a hand up onto the seat. "Byron, Red Eagle, stop playing in the dirt and get in."

The boys obediently ran to the carriage and climbed up. Sully followed them a moment later.

Rebecca waved as cheerfully as she could. "Goodbye. Have a safe trip!"

Sully reached down, holding his hand out to Michaela. "Time to go. It's gettin' late."

Michaela hesitated a moment longer, then grabbed Sully's hand and climbed up beside him.

"Go ahead, driver," Sully called.

Michaela couldn't look at her forlorn sisters as the carriages pulled away. She stared forward somberly, overcome with guilt.

"Hey," Sully murmured, squeezing her knee. "Smile. We're goin' home."

"Home," Michaela breathed, permitting herself a small grin. "That sounds wonderful right now."

"It sure does," Sully replied, putting his arm around her lovingly.

Sully pulled down the narrow bed in their sleeping car and smoothed the sheets and blankets. He grabbed two pillows off the shelf above the bed and fluffed them, placing them at the head of the bed. Then he walked a step toward the window and shut it, drawing the curtains closed.

Michaela suddenly opened the door and shut it after her. She headed straight to their tiny washroom and closed the door without a word to Sully.

"Your ma asleep?" Sully called through the thin door.

"No. She says her bed's uncomfortable," Michaela replied.

"Oh," he murmured. He reached for the buttons on his shirt and began undoing them. "We're already in Pennsylvania I think," he remarked.

It was at least a few minutes before she finally stepped out of the washroom. She found her carpetbag, opening it and taking out a nightgown and her hairbrush. She unbuttoned the bodice of her gown and pulled it off, then stepped out of her skirt, draping the garments over the back of a chair and making no effort to be neat about it. Then she unlaced her boots and left them beside the chair. Sully watched curiously. Michaela usually took the time to neatly fold and put away all her clothes no matter how exhausted she might be. It wasn't like her to just let things lie where they fell.

"There somethin' wrong?" he asked carefully.

She glanced up as she unfastened her garters. "No, what would be wrong?"

"Ya just seem tired is all. Want me to get up and turn your ma tonight? What time should I get up?" He stepped toward her and helped her unlace her corset.

"In other words I look awful."

"No," he quickly said.

"Sully, we knew this would be difficult. We both admitted it would be." She pulled the corset and her chemise over her head, and reached for her nightgown, slipping it on and doing the buttons up to her chin.

"I know, that's why I'm saying I wanna help."

"You can't do it all either."

"I ain't sayin' I'll do it all. I'm sayin' I thought we were gonna share the responsibility."

"Fine, you turn her tonight," she replied, returning to the washroom and filling the basin with water.

"Michaela, what'd I do?" he demanded, joining her and grasping the doorframe. "How'd this turn into a fight?"

"Maybe when you said I looked awful."

"I didn't say that," he retorted defensively. "Michaela, all I said is ya look tired."

"Same thing." She dipped her hands in the basin and washed her face.

"How is that the same thing?"

"One's just more tactful than the other."

He handed her a towel and she pressed it to her face, then walked past him, brushing up against him in the narrow doorway. He shifted awkwardly to make room for her and she walked to the bed and got in.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way."

"It's all right," she replied quietly.

"Warm enough?" he murmured.

"Too warm," she replied, pushing her hair behind her ear and curling up against the wall with her back to him.

"Oh. Want me to open the window?" When she didn't reply he cleared his throat and slipped out of his shirt. "Maybe we could come up with some kind of schedule for what needs to be done. Take turns lookin' after her so nobody gets worn out." He folded his shirt and placed it on top of her clothes on the chair. "Kids were good tonight. They like their bunk beds."

"Mm," she said in acknowledgment.

"They could help out with your ma, too. Sit with her, read to her. Give us a break." He pulled back the covers and got in beside her, tucking his hands under his head. "We should be in Ohio come sunup. We'll be outta these mountains. Ya want the kids to do some schoolwork tomorrow? Guess neither of us have been after them too much about that." He paused, glancing at her. She was perfectly still. He shifted up to lean over her and see her face. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing slowly, already fast asleep.

He smiled softly and drew the covers up around her waist. He knew Michaela was simply exhausted. She had just spent two months in Boston caring for Elizabeth and worrying about her and tending to all the household affairs because the mistress of the house was incapacitated, only to get on a train to have to look after her mother night and day there, too. He couldn't blame her for being short with him. He gave her cheek a soft goodnight kiss, then wrapped his arm around her and cuddling up against her back.

"What's taking Michaela so long?" Elizabeth demanded from her long bed in her car. "Where is she?"

Sully glanced up from the small circular table nearby. He was sitting with the children, who were working quietly and diligently on their homework. They occasionally asked him for help or gave him something to check over.

"Thought she just left," he remarked, glancing at Red Eagle's paper as he wrote down the answer to a simple division problem. "That's good, son. That's right."

"Ten minutes ago," Elizabeth said, yanking the covers up impatiently. "How long does it take to get a simple sandwich on a train this small? I'm starving."

Byron put down his pencil, eager for an excuse to take a break from homework. "I'll go look for her."

Sully placed his hand on his shoulder and stood. "No ya don't. Do your division. I'll look for her."

"No fair," Byron whispered as Sully tousled his hair.

"Can ya watch the kids?" Sully asked, glancing at his mother-in-law.

"Certainly," Elizabeth said. "My, they've been working so hard this morning. They're being very good students."

Katie glanced at her grandmother and smiled appreciatively.

"Sure have," Sully said in agreement, heading to the door and opening it.

He walked the length of two passenger cars, seeing no sign of Michaela. He thought she had probably gone to their room to get something, so he headed to the sleeping cars and opened the door to their little room.

Michaela had their window open and was clutching it and breathing in the warm summer air as the train rolled past Ohio's farmlands.

"There ya are. Your ma's gettin' grumpy. Michaela, what're ya doin'?"

She glanced back at him briefly. "Nothing. Looking at the view."

"What view? All we seen is corn fields for hours now."

She sighed. She had never been good at lying, especially not to Sully. He always seemed to be able to see right through her to the truth.

"All right, I was feeling a little warm, a little ill. I needed some fresh air," she admitted timidly.

He closed the door behind him and stepped closer to her, suddenly noticing her medical bag on the chair instead of tucked away on the shelf up high with their luggage. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing now. I took some paregoric and it worked." She pushed the window shut and turned to face him, attempting a reassuring smile.

He eyed her skeptically. "Your ma's hungry. Wants lunch."

"I know. I couldn't find the butcher boy."

"I'll find him. Go back to your ma."

"Sully…do you think I could just rest in here? Could you stay with Mother?"

"Ya just said the medicine worked."

"Well, almost. I just need to lay down for a few minutes."

"Sure. Lie down," he said, grabbing their pull down bed and forcing it down. "Take as long as you need."

"You don't mind dealing with my mother?" She slowly sat on the bed, reaching one hand up to gently clutch her somewhat queasy stomach.

He chuckled softly and kissed her brow. "No, I'll deal with her."

Michaela finished buttoning the last button on Elizabeth's nightgown and then helped her lay back against the pillows.

"Are you comfortable, Mother?" she asked. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you can make this train go faster," Elizabeth griped.

Sully opened the door of the car and ushered in the children. They were each carrying a small plate with a moist piece of chocolate cake.

"Here, Gran'ma. We brought you some cake from the dining car," Red Eagle said, approaching the bed.

"No," Elizabeth said, turning her head and waving her hand at him.

"Cake? You're giving them cake at this hour?" Michaela said, glancing at Sully disapprovingly.

"Yep," Byron said, taking a seat at the small table in Elizabeth's room and digging in to the treat. Katie and Red Eagle joined him and followed suit.

"Sully, they'll never get to sleep. They'll be bouncing off the walls." She walked to the table and pulled away Byron's plate.

"Hey," Byron protested, holding his fork in midair and frowning.

"It's just a little piece, Michaela," Sully murmured. "Ya don't gotta overreact."

"Overreact? You saw how much candy and pastries and cookies Martha fed them in Boston. At this rate I'll be pulling their teeth before we're even back in Colorado."

Red Eagle clutched his cheek and grimaced.

"They been real good today," Sully went on. "I promised them a treat if they were good."

"And you didn't tell me about that."

"You been so busy with your ma I didn't get a chance. Sides, I didn't think you'd care. What's the matter? Why ya so upset?"

"I'm not!" she said defensively. She glanced at Elizabeth, who was remaining apathetic to the whole conversation. "I'm going to bed. Goodnight, Mother."

"Goodnight," Elizabeth muttered.

Michaela grudgingly gave Byron's plate back to him and exited the room, brushing past Sully angrily.

"Uh-oh," Byron remarked, taking another bite of cake.

"Why's Mama so mad?" Katie whispered.

Elizabeth suddenly turned her head to look at Sully. "What are you doing? Don't just stand there, Sully. Go after her."

He shrugged helplessly. "Nothin' I can do when she gets in a mood but give her time to cool off."

"Oh, I see. You're afraid of her."

"I ain't afraid of her," he immediately said.

"Then go. I'll watch the children," Elizabeth ordered.

He reluctantly opened the door and walked past several doors to their sleeping car. He rapped lightly on the door and opened it. Michaela was already in her nightgown and was in the tiny washroom, brushing her hair forcefully in front of the mirror.

"Uh, you all right?" he murmured.

"Of course."

"Goin' to bed already? Ya must be tired." He grabbed the pull down bed and forced it down, turning back the covers and patting her pillow.

"You try looking after her all day. You have it easy. You only have to keep track of the children."

"That what you're mad about? Your ma?"

"No. I don't know." She put the brush beside the washbasin and walked to the bed. "I'm not mad exactly. I'm just….irritated." She sat and got under the covers.

"Oh," he whispered, hopelessly confused as he tentatively drew the covers around her as she lay down. "Anything I can do to….make ya not so irritated?" He crouched down and kissed her ear suggestively.

"Sully, don't," she protested, wriggling away from him. "Honestly, that's all you ever think about."

"It ain't all I think about. Just trying to help ya feel better." He straightened impatiently. "I told your ma we should just leave ya be, not push it. I knew this was a bad idea."

"Mother made you come in here?"

"Yeah, she did," he muttered. "Another one of her brilliant ideas."

She suddenly burst into giggles. "Why did you listen to her?"

"She didn't give me much choice."

She gently stroked the back of his hand with her fingers. "Sully, could I talk to you about something?"

"Sure," he immediately said, gazing at her and giving her his full attention.

"Do you ever think about the fact that I'm getting older?"

He narrowed his brow in confusion. "What do ya mean?"

"It's just…do you see me as different? I mean, now that we've had our family and we've finished with that."

"What're ya talkin' about? Michaela, you're as beautiful as the day I met you, maybe more."

"I think you're a bit biased."

He kissed her softly. "Don't forget I ain't as young as I used to be, too."

"Sully, that's different. There's certain things a man never has to contend with."

He paused, eyeing her with realization. "Michaela, why you worryin' about that? You're too young yet."

"I'm not too young," she protested.

"Ya sayin' that's what this is? That's why ya ain't been yourself?"

"I think so. I've been feeling waves of heat. They're called hot flushes. And my monthly's been rather irregular. I missed it altogether this month."

He gently rubbed her arm. "Are you all right? Anything I can do?"

"No, I'm fine. Just a little taken aback."

"The Cheyenne would say you're just becomin' a little wiser. The younger women of the tribe would start comin' to you for advice, guidance."

"I don't feel any wiser," she replied.

"Michaela, if that's what this is, it ain't a bad thing. You'll get through it just fine. If you're wondering if it's gonna change how I feel about ya, ya can rest easy. It don't. Not for a second."

"This has just come a little unexpectedly. I'm sorry I've been so….unpredictable lately."

He chuckled softly. "That's all right. You take your time."

She drew him down with one hand. "You're wonderful. I love you." She gave him a gentle hug and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Sully."

He smiled. "You're welcome. Now you get a good sleep."

Michaela opened the washroom door, stepping outside, closing it and leaning against it. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, willing her stomach to settle down. Outside, the sun was just rising as the train chugged across endless wheat fields in Illinois.

Sully squinted at her, brow furrowed. "You all right?"

She glanced at him. He was slowly waking, gazing at her from the small fold down bed in their sleeping car. He was taken aback by how pale she looked.

"I just threw up," she whispered.

"Ya did? What's wrong?"

She strolled to the bed and sat beside him. "I don't know. Motion sickness."

He propped himself up with one arm and kissed her shoulder. "Ya never had that before."

"Well, I have it now." She suddenly brought her hand up to her mouth as her stomach lurched uncomfortably.

Sully sat up with her and rubbed her back. "Just take some slow breaths."

She shook her head, rushing back to the washroom and crouching beside the commode just in time to lose it again. Sully got up and walked to the doorway, watching her sympathetically.

"Guess this means ya don't want breakfast," he murmured. He grabbed a washcloth beside the basin and got down beside her, tenderly wiping her mouth.

She sat on the floor weakly and clutched the commode, reluctant to leave it again. "I've been wanting to do that for two days now. I feel so much better now that I have."

"Good. Shouldn't hold it back," he murmured, squeezing her arm as he bathed her damp brow with another portion of the cloth. "This feel good?"

"Mm. I must be a sight," she murmured.

He smiled softly and pressed his hand across her brow for a long moment. "No fever. Any aches and pains, 'sides your stomach?"

She shook her head.

"You just rest until ya feel better. I'll take care of your ma and the kids."

"You need my help with her," she murmured.

"Ya ain't gonna be much help like this. Come on, let's get ya back in bed."

"No, I'll stay here for now," she said, resting her head against the wall.

He caressed her shoulder. "Ya sure?"

She nodded, closing her eyes. "Just in case," she murmured with the slightest upturn of her lips.

He rose to his feet and walked to the bed, grabbing the extra blanket off the end. He brought it to her, unfolding it and draping it across her waist.

"How ya doin'? Ya all right?"

"Sully, go get the children up and ready for the day before they wake on their own and start getting into mischief."

He nodded and kissed her brow. "I'll check on ya in a little while."

"You know where to find me," she replied, opening her eyes for a moment to give him a soft, reassuring smile.