Chapter Two

"Miss McShane!"

I stopped, turning as Preston Lodge came hurrying down the sidewalk to join me. I was tired, desperately in need of a bath, clean clothing, and a meal, and the last thing that I wanted at that particular moment was to engage in conversation with the arrogant banker. Although he was well educated, wealthy, and not displeasing in his appearance, Mr. Lodge was secretly the least welcome of my several would-be suitors. There was something about the man that I simply could not like, despite the fact that he himself and many other people considered him to be the most eligible bachelor in town and quite a "catch" as a potential husband.

If nothing else, my arrival in Colorado Springs had served to relieve Michaela of Mr. Lodge's unwanted attention. It was laughable to me that he had ever thought he might have a chance of winning Mike's heart from her husband, but time after time Preston had apparently attempted to humiliate Sully, as if trying to prove to her that he was the better man. Even though his interest had now shifted to me, I was under no illusion that the pompous Bostonian bore me any true affection: in his mind I was simply the only single female around who was worthy of consideration for the honor of being the future Mrs. Preston A. Lodge, the Third.

"You will be happy to learn that we apprehended those two desperados who robbed the bank, and that Daniel has them safely in custody," he announced gleefully. "The money that was stolen has been completely recovered."

"That's certainly welcome news."

"I've found that there is a certain primitive kind of satisfaction in being able to engage in an exchange of gunfire with men who have done you a personal injury. It's quite exhilarating, really," he confessed, his eyes shining with excitement. "Hopefully, there will be a speedy trial, after which we can take care of this very unfortunate matter with a public hanging."

I was at a loss for words, unable to bring thoughts still focused on the pain on Hank's face when he had asked if he wasn't good enough for me around to providing Preston with the praise that he clearly sought. Attributing my silence to delicate sensibilities, he reached out and gently rested his hand on my arm for a brief moment.

"Dear lady, barbaric as it may seem to persons such as you and me, out here hanging has proven to be a most effective method of dissuading others from following the same ill-chosen pathway--as well as eliminating repeat offenders." He smiled mockingly. "Although I must confess that the ruffian who had the audacity to put his hands on you may well cheat the hangman--I put several bullets into him myself. In the near future they will probably be burying both Hank and our bank robber in whatever corner of the graveyard has been reserved for the less desirables."

"Dr. Quinn is of the opinion that Mr. Lawson will fully regain his health," I informed him stiffly.

"What a pity. Having a vacancy in that particular seat on the Council would have benefited the entire town."

"I will take exception to that, Mr. Lodge. Regardless of our personal differences, I would never wish Mr. Lawson ill."

"My impression has always been that you would wish him straight to Hell," he said drily. "As would I."

"Earlier today Mr. Lawson very likely saved my life...and he most assuredly saved me from experiencing enormous pain and suffering," I rebuked him coldly. "I owe him a debt of gratitude for his willingness to risk his own life for mine."

"Quite frankly, I never expected to return and find Hank still alive." He shrugged. "Michaela must have performed something of a miracle, judging by the amount of blood that's on the floor of the bank. It will take Myra hours to scrub it sufficiently clean. We won't be able to reopen again until possibly tomorrow afternoon."

"Then I'll be coming by after school to pay the note that's due on my mortgage." I felt a hint of disgust for this man to whom it would never occur to lower himself to at least helping Myra with that disagreeable task.

"Because you were there in good faith, trying to make payment when all of this happened, I fully intend to waive the interest penalty that would have accrued for it being a day late by tomorrow."

Looking at him in disbelief, I finally nodded. "Yes, well... Good day then, Mr. Lodge."

I was almost to the livery, where I planned to reclaim my horse and wagon and finally go home, when Grace called out to me. "Caitlyn, you haven't had a bite to eat all day long. Come and sit yourself down right now, and let me get you something."

"I'm too tired to eat, Grace," I admitted quietly. "But thank you anyway."

"I won't take no for an answer," she said firmly. "You're going to put some food into that empty stomach, even if it's only a piece of my pie. I've got cherry today. Your favorite."

"How can I turn that down?" I relented, giving her a fleeting smile as I followed her to a table.

From the moment when she had first heard my accent and realized that I had been born and raised in the deep South, I had felt a decided chill emanating from Grace, a former slave, and although I had been around people of color all of my life--had been loved, spoiled, and bullied into doing the things that I should have by Ethella, the woman who had taken care of me for as long as I could remember up until her death two years earlier-- reconstruction, without benefit of Lincoln's guidance, had left its own mark on me. Both Grace and I had had preconceived notions that had turned out to be false--ideas that had made us awkward with each other until Michaela had asked me if I would be willing to volunteer my time to help Grace with the Freedman's School. Over a primer and endless cups of coffee and tea as we worked together once a week on developing lesson plans, we had slowly but surely found our way through bitter memories to forge a genuine friendship.

"How's Hank?" She set a large wedge of pie in front of me, along with a cup of coffee.

"He was awake when I left."

"Is he gonna be all right?" Jake Slicker appeared, sitting down across the table from me.

"Dr. Mike seems to think that he will be."

"How 'bout you? You doin' okay?"

"There's really nothing wrong with me except for a few bruises and exhaustion." I cut a forkful of the flaky pastry. "This day already feels 48 hours long."

"There in the bank, with them armed...pretty much all we could do was go along with whatever they said. Hank coulda got us all killed, doin' what he did."

"Lord knows, I ain't one to take up for Hank, but seems to me like he mighta thought you and Preston would jump in and give him some help." Grace rolled her eyes at me as she put another coffee cup in front of Jake and filled it.

"I shot the one who tried to hurt you." Mayor Slicker ignored her, meeting my gaze. "I wanted you to know that."

"Too bad you didn't kill him," Grace sniffed. "Trash like that-- coming in here and scarin' decent folks half to death."

"Caitlyn?" Sully appeared at my elbow, Katie on his hip. "Are you about ready to go?"

"I was on my way to get the wagon when Grace insisted on feeding me cherry pie."

"Michaela wants you to come and spend the night."

"I can't do that." I shook my head slightly, taking Katie, who had practically dived into my arms at the sight of the pie on my plate. "I have animals to feed."

"I've already gone out to your place and taken care of everything. I'll go back again in the mornin'."

"The danger's over." I put a bite of crust and sweet filling into the child's mouth. "The men who robbed the bank were arrested awhile ago. I'll be perfectly safe at home."

"Don't make me have to go back and tell Michaela that you said no, or I'll be forced to tell her you were feedin' our daughter pie before supper," he threatened with a grin.

"More pie, Kae-lin!" Katie demanded when I was too slow in delivering the next bite.

"I have a feeling that my 'crime' is about to be exposed anyway,"

I laughed, giving her another mouthful before pushing the plate away.

"Give Kaey some more pie, Papa!" she insisted, frowning and pointing at the portion that remained on the plate.

"I think you've had enough pie for now, silly girl," he suggested affectionately, lifting her from my lap. "We need to be gettin' on home."

"She's growing up so fast." Grace tenderly brushed her fingers through Katie's ringlets, a fleeting shadow of pain in her eyes.

Even though I had never met her son, I knew that she was remembering Anthony. When it seemed that Grace and Robert E would not be able to have a child from their marriage, they had adopted a young boy who they had lost to an inexplicable re-occurring disease back in '72. Grace was meant to be the mother of a whole brood of children--little ones who she could fuss over and love and stuff with goodies from her kitchen—and even the birth of her much-adored daughter, Hope, had not taken away the pain of Anthony's death. "Thank you, Grace. It was wonderful--as always." I wiped my hands and put the napkin on the table.

"Leave your horse at the livery," Sully suggested. "We can all fit in the wagon."

Mayor Slicker stood up quickly as I got to my feet, and I smiled at him. "Good night."

Sully and I walked back to where their wagon waited in front of the clinic, his pace automatically shortening to adjust to mine. "Sorry to be so slow," I apologized. "My knees are really throbbing."

"Oughtta have your feet up somewhere, restin'."

"Believe me, I'm ready," I acknowledged. "But even more than that, I want a bath."

"I'll have one ready for you fifteen minutes after we get home," he promised.

"I really do appreciate the offer to let me stay over--I was feeling anxious about being on my own so far outside of town with those two on the loose--but now that they've been captured, there's really no point in it."

"You don't need to be by yerself...besides, yer good company."

"Bye-bye, pie." Katie looked wistfully back at Grace over Sully's shoulder. "Bye, Miss Gwace."

"Has Katie been eating pie again?" Brian came out of the clinic with his books.

"I'm coming home with you tonight, so I promised to make one for supper," I improvised, winking conspiratorially at the children's father.

"Peach cobbler?" Brian's eyes lit up.

"If that's what you want." I nodded.

"Sounds good to me." Sully put Katie into the wagon and then turned to me. "How 'bout I give you a boost, since your knees are hurt?"

Putting his hands around my waist he helped lift me onto the front seat, then went inside to collect Michaela. I sighed, weighing my need to simply bathe and slip into bed against the comfort of not having to face the coming night alone in my own house. Despite the fact that the man with cold dark eyes was now safely behind bars, I knew that for at least awhile every pop and creak of the house settling would make me startle in fear.

"Hold Kaey, please." Katie stretched her arms up to me.

"Why don't I come back there with you and Brian?" I turned around on the seat, then settled down into the straw that cushioned the wagonbed. Katie immediately crawled into my lap, bumping the back of her head repeatedly against my chest as she "rocked" herself and hummed tunelessly.

"She's got her Mama's looks and her Papa's singing voice." Sully put Mike's medical bag into the back of the wagon.

"I think she looks a little like each of you." I shifted her around so that her head was cradled against my breast. "And those are definitely her papa's blue eyes."

"What in the world are you doing back there?" Michaela questioned.

"There's plenty of room for you up here in front."

"At the moment I'm doing service as your daughter's pillow." I smiled. "But I honestly don't mind. This is the first time today that I've had the chance to stretch out my legs."

"You'll get filthy."

"I'm already filthy. How much dirtier can I possibly be?"

"You're clearly not a mother." Mike grinned. "The world of dirt is something that you truly can't appreciate the full possibilities of until you have children of your own."

Katie snuggled against me, one thumb going into her mouth, and the other rubbing my braid between her fingers. Long lashes fluttered down over eyes grown heavy with sleep, and I covered her with part of my cape, wondering idly if I would someday hold a child of my own cuddled like this in my arms. I smiled to myself, imagining a son or a daughter with honey-blond curls and bluebonnet eyes...

Jolted upright by the sudden realization that becoming a mother was a thought that I hadn't allowed to enter my mind for nearly a decade, I shook off the daydream. To give birth you have to first give yourself to a man, and for me that was something that was never going to happen.

Finally we pulled up in front of the house, and Sully helped Mike and me to the ground. "Brian, you take care of the horses. After I put the tub in Colleen's old room and fill it up, I'll come back out and help with the feedin'."

"You don't have to bring the tub and water upstairs," I protested.

"I can bathe in the kitchen, the same as everyone else."

"This once you deserve pamperin'." Sully smiled.

"I'll find you something clean to wear." Michaela carried Katie inside, putting her down on a pallet of quilts on the floor to finish out her nap before heading up the stairs. "We're almost the same size."

I built a fire in the bedroom's fireplace while Sully hauled up buckets of water, kept hot in the reservoir of the stove, and soon I was slipping into a bath scented with a few drops of Mike's rose oils. I relaxed in the welcome comfort of warm water, closing my eyes and feeling some of the tension of the day begin to drain away. Growing up in the steamy heat of southern Georgia, I had been accustomed to taking a tub bath every morning--and quite often again before dinner--and the bathtub at Riverview, with running water and a drain, was one of the luxuries that I found myself missing most from my former life. Out West the custom seemed to be that most people took a full bath only once a week, but a quick wash with soap and a rag from a basin never left me feeling really clean. So at least every other night, despite the investment of time that it took to fill my copper tub and then dip the water out, I allowed myself the pleasure of a long soak.

Alone for the first time since I had left the clinic, my thoughts drifted to Hank. Not since I was l8 years old had I had the least desire for a man to kiss me, but while he was lying there unconscious I had found myself wanting to brush my lips against his--wanting to rest my head against his chest---to feel those soft blond curls twining themselves around my fingers. There was no other man in Colorado Springs who could possibly be less suitable for me than the rough-edged barkeep, and yet whenever I was in his presence I felt my blood race with a heightened sense of awareness, and there was a longing in my heart that left me feeling confused and a little angry.

With Hank lying in the clinic, feverish and in a great deal of pain from a bullet wound that could have killed him--which might still kill him--every nerve in my body was screaming out that I belonged at his side. However irrational that urge might be, there was nothing else that I wanted more than I wanted to be where Hank was at that moment—comforting him, touching him, silently reassuring myself that he was safe. But it was Mrs. Cullhain, Michaela's night sitter, who would be feeding him broth, sponging the sweat from his brow, and tending to his needs.

"Never met another woman I wanted the same way I want you..." In my memory I heard his rich, smoky voice saying those words again and again, and tears filled my eyes. It had never occurred to me that Hank might be harboring the same attraction to me that I felt toward him. Not that it changed anything. Who I was and who he was made any kind of relationship between the two of us completely out of the question.

Improbable as it seemed, I had managed to fall deeply in love with a man who I had never even spent time alone with. A man who I could never have... There was no denying it to myself any longer--I was in love with Hank Lawson. Despite his many faults--despite the fact that nothing could ever come of my feelings--I was drawn to him like a moth to the flame.

My bath water had started to grow cold, so I quickly scrubbed my skin, then stepped out of the tub and dried myself off. After donning the gown and robe that Michaela had lent to me, I washed out my stockings and underthings, hanging them over the rack in front of the fire to dry. There had been a time when I would have thrown my bloodstained dress into the rag bag without a second thought, but now that I knew how many hours of sewing that it took to actually make an outfit, it would be washed as clean as I could get it, then relegated to something that I wore to do my chores.

Sitting down at the dressing table I brushed my hair until it shone, then tied it back off of my face with a ribbon from a box that had belonged to Colleen. Mike's extra slippers were a size too large but wearable, and I put them on before going downstairs to join the others.

With Sully and Brian still outside tending to the livestock and Katie dozing on the quilts, the house was still and quiet. Moving into the living room I smiled when I saw that an overly-tired Michaela had fallen asleep in a chair, then went into the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. There was a plucked and cleaned chicken ready and waiting to be cooked, so I cut it up, dipped the pieces into seasoned flour, and dropped them into hot oil. While the chicken deep-fried to a crispy, golden-brown, I made the peach cobbler and a pan of biscuits, boiled potatoes to mash with butter and cream, and cooked the green beans that I had found in the pantry.

Finally Mike appeared in the doorway, yawning and sniffing the air appreciatively. "I had no intention of falling asleep--but I'm awfully glad that I did." She grinned.

"We all are," I joked, putting the coffee pot on. "Otherwise, you would have insisted on cooking."

"What can I do to help?"

"Everything is almost ready. But you could set the table—and bring in that jar of tea that I put out on the porch to chill."

After we had eaten I took Katie upstairs to give her a bath and dress her for bed while Mike and Sully did the dishes and Brian finished his homework. Finally, after kisses all around, Mike put her daughter down to sleep, Brian disappeared into his room, and I was settled into a wing chair with a cup of coffee, my feet up on a low stool. Sully took the opposite chair, and when Mike passed by him on her way to the sofa, he reached up and tugged her down into his lap.

"Sully!" she protested, laughing. "We have company."

"Just Caitlyn." He captured her chin in his palm and gave her a light kiss.

"You're the only man in town who I have ever heard refer to this woman as 'just' Caitlyn," she teased.

"Pretty as she is, you know I've only got eyes for you," he swore solemnly.

"Then how is it that you've noticed that Cait is pretty?"

"I'm married. Not blind." He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he kissed her again.

"Good answer." She pushed his long locks back over his shoulder, then nestled her head against his collarbone.

"Does Jake always look at you like you're a Christmas pudding he can't wait to dig his spoon into?" Sully grinned.

"Afraid so." I sighed. "Even worse, he has trouble simply carrying on a normal conversation with me. It's as if his mind goes blank, and he simply sits there, staring. It drives me crazy. I keep having this urge to poke him with a parasol and yell 'speak!"

"Mr. Lodge is quite smitten with you, too." Michaela snuggled deeper into Sully's arms.

"Mr. Lodge is smitten with his own reflection in the mirror," I opined. "What he's looking for is a female has the right bloodlines to be the perfect Lodge broodmare, who is also attractive enough for him to want to wear her on his arm."

"Jake. Preston. Even Reverend Johnson, and he can't even see what you look like," Sully teased. "Why don't you pick one of them and put the rest out of their misery?"

"Michaela has already taken the only man around here who's at all worth having." I pretended to flirt with him in true Southern belle fashion, tilting my head and giving him a smoldering look from underneath my eyelashes as I smiled seductively.

"It's a good thing Jake's never seen that side of you, or his socks woulda melted right off in his boots." He laughed.

"That part of me doesn't exist any more." I took a sip of coffee. "It's as cold and dead as three-day ashes."

"Don't you have any desire to find the right man, marry him, and bear his children?" Mike absently stroked the stubble of beard on Sully's cheek.

"I've given up on that dream," I admitted softly.

"Once in awhile dreams come true." She looked up into her husband's eyes. "Mine did."

"What you two have isn't in the cards for me."

"I was a great deal older than you are when I found Sully—which makes me believe that there is a man out there somewhere who you could love."

"Just might not be exactly what you expected." Sully pulled the pins out of her hair, freeing it to fall down her back before tilting her head and bringing his mouth down to meet hers.

I felt a pang of envy as the kiss deepened, both of them seeming to forget my presence for a moment. His hand went down to protectively cup the slight swell of her abdomen, and I shivered as I imagined another hand--one with long, well-shaped fingers--caressing my own flat belly. A tear trickled down my cheek, and I got up to put another log on the fire, planning to slip away and leave Mike and Sully alone together.

"Caitlyn, there's something that I wanted to tell you," Mike spoke quietly, abruptly changing my plans. "It's painful to remember--a part of the past that I would rather push to the back of my mind--but after what happened today in the bank, perhaps it might help if you know. When Katie was small--still in her cradle--two men held the children and me hostage. Here. Inside this house."

They both watched as I sank back down again in my chair and shakily picked up my coffee cup. My mouth dry with shock, I met her gaze and waited.

"They shot Sully," she continued softly. "And one of them intended to take me upstairs. I would have done anything to protect Brian and Katie. Anything. But I realized later that even if I had allowed him to take me without a fight, they still meant to kill all of us when they left. I was lucky--help came in time. But I had nightmares for months about what happened--and what could have happened. I know what's going through your mind. I've had those same feelings of helplessness and anger and fear. Thank God, I had Sully to hold me on all of those nights when I woke up screaming."

"I keep seeing his eyes," I whispered, starting to cry. "If it hadn't been for Hank..."

"I know." She held out her arms, her own tears falling freely.

We clung to each other, sobbing, while Sully awkwardly tried to give comfort to us both. When I finally quieted I was sitting on the floor, my head in Michaela's lap, while he held her tightly against his chest with one arm and gently stroked my hair with his other hand. For a long time the room was silent except for the hiss and crackle of the logs in the grate, then I looked up at them.

"Did you operate on one of those bank robbers this afternoon?"

"That's why I was so long in getting back to check on Hank." Mike nodded. "Daniel had Sully wake me and ask me to come over to the jail."

"Were you able to patch up all of the bullet holes?"

"I beg your pardon?" She looked confused.

 "After both Preston and Jake claimed that they had shot that evil old bank robber just for me, surely the man must have looked like Swiss Cheese?" I giggled.

"One bullet--in his right arm--and Daniel's the one who put it there." Sully grinned.

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