Chapter Nine
by Sandi 99

"You're a good ma, Myra."

"I don't know why you say that. I feel so helpless."

"You don't need to, Myra .... cause you love her."

"That's true. I'd do anything for her."

Hank and Myra - Cooper vs Quinn - Part Two.
**************
Sully waited until Michaela unhitched her horse from the wagon and led it into the barn before making his presence known. He stepped around the side of the building and stood just inside the doorway, the moonlight seeping in around his slim frame as he stared at his wife. She was in the process of lighting a coal oil lamp, her back turned. As he took a step toward her, she called out quietly, "Hello, Sully."

He stopped in his tracks as she pivoted to face him. "How did ya know I was here?"

Her face flickered in the lamplight as she smiled. "We've been married for a long time now. I know you better than I know myself."

Grudgingly, he returned her smile. "Ya look ... incredible tonight," he murmured, softly. It wasn't what he intended to say to her but, as he stood there staring at her, the words tumbled out of his mouth with a will of their own. "You're ... so beautiful."

"Is that why you've been following me?" she asked, coyly. "Because you wanted to tell me that?"

Surprised, he frowned at her. "Ya knew?"

She laughed. "Of course! You were outside the Chateau, when I finished dinner. And you trailed after me all the way back to the homestead."

The mention of the Chateau brought Sully back to the issue at hand. "So how was ... dinner? You and Duncan get .... caught up?" He didn't even try to conceal the jealousy in his tone.

"It was fine, thank you," she replied briskly, without missing a beat. "Duncan was quite attentive."

"I bet he was," Sully growled. He moved in toward her, his gaze surveying her clothing. "I ain't never seen that dress before. Where did it come from?"

Michaela shrugged but the casual note that she forced into her voice was far from convincing. "Emma made it for me - a long time ago. I've been saving it for a special occasion."

A slow anger began to boil beneath the surface and Sully struggled to contain it. "And this was special? Meetin' with Duncan tonight? You saved the dress for ... him?"

His wife squared her shoulders and raised her chin into the air, defiantly. "Don't be ridiculous. You know why we're doing this. I just thought it would be better if I looked like I was planning a romantic evening with my estranged husband so ... I chose this dress."

Sully's eyes narrowed. "I know you too, Michaela. Every bit as much as you know me. And ya ain't bein' honest. What was the real reason for wearin' this dress tonight? What were ya hopin' ta gain?"

She turned away from him as she started to unstrap the halter from around the horse's head. "I don't know what you mean."

Sully cleared the small space between them and touched her shoulder. He felt her shiver at the contact. "I dunno what's happenin' here, Michaela, but if this whole thing is comin' between us, if it's causin' trouble with our marriage, I think we should call it off."

"This 'charade' isn't coming between us, Sully," she whispered.

"Then ... what is it? What's botherin' you?"

She never turned back to meet his gaze but he heard her sigh, heavily. "It's been a long evening, Sully. I'm tired and I'm not thinking clearly right now. I need some time to sort through everything that Duncan said and everything that's been happening ...."

"What did Duncan say?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing that I didn't expect him to say. He really didn't tell me much of anything but ... I'm sure he will, eventually." She sounded like she was holding back something but she still refused to turn and look at him. "I think I was quite convincing."

Sully placed a hand on her other shoulder and gently eased her around until she was forced to meet his eyes. "I love you, Michaela," he stated, softly. For some reason, he felt like she needed to hear him say it, that she needed reassurance. Her eyes filled with tears and she slumped against him. He enfolded her in his embrace and hugged her, tightly.

"I love you too, Sully - so very much."

"Enough to talk ta me?" he prodded. "Enough to tell me what's wrong?"

"Tomorrow," she promised, softly. "Come to see me tomorrow. I need to sort through my emotions first." She looked up at him and he placed a hand under her chin. Lowering his head, he kissed her lightly. He intended to pull away again but she clung to him, returning the kiss with a passion that surprised him.

"I wish you could stay with me tonight," she said, shakily, when the kiss ended. "I wish you could stay with me forever."

"Michaela," he urged again, "Tell me what happened. What' s wrong?"

"Tomorrow," she repeated. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

******************
"You don't understand, Madi," Matthew argued. "I know Dr. Mike and I know Preston. There was something in that telegram, something she's trying to tell me about Duncan. And Preston wouldn't warn me about his brother unless he had a good reason."

"Maybe Preston's just upset with him over something?" Madi suggested.

They were standing in the parlour of her parents' home. After their encounter with Preston A. Lodge the third, Matthew had been somber and subdued. Madi had tried to engage him in conversation as they'd walked toward the impressive Montgomery dwelling but he was distracted, his thoughts far away. Madi now realized that Matthew may have been with her physically but, emotionally, he was back in Colorado Springs.

Now, Matthew shook his head, in disagreement. "No. Preston was always talkin' bout how great his family is, how he came from a long line of Lodges. He'd never say somethin' against one of his brothers unless he meant it."

Madi stepped forward and placed a hand on his chest, gazing up into his troubled eyes. "Ever since you got that newspaper from Colorado Springs, you've been fussing, Matthew. I don't understand why. That man ... that Hank Lawson who is accused of killing that girl, seemed like a despicable character to me, when I met him." She frowned at the memory, recalling how Hank had been so rude and insulting during her visit to Colorado Springs. "I don't know why you're so worried about him."

"It's not Hank," Matthew denied, quickly. "It's that wire from Dr. Mike. I know her, Madi. She wouldn't be asking for information about Duncan unless there was something wrong ... and I'm willing to bet that it has something to do with Hank."

Madi shrugged. "So? You send her a telegram, tell her that Duncan's been lying about being a lawyer, and then you've done everything she asked you to do. What's the problem?"

"The problem is," Matthew exclaimed, his voice filled with exasperation, "that I still don't know what's going on. I gotta find out, Madi. I gotta know what this is all about. And I don't think I should send information about Duncan over the wires. Somethin' tells me that Ma ... Dr. Mike ... wants it kept private."

Madi eyed him, suspiciously. She'd seen that look of determination in her fiance's eyes before and she knew what it meant. When Matthew decided to be stubborn, no amount of reasoning could sway him. "So, what are you saying?"

He drew in a breath before answering. "I'm going to Colorado Springs tomorrow. I'll take the message to Dr. Mike myself and, at the same time, I'll find out what's going on." Her hand still lay on his chest and he covered it with his fingers. "I won't be gone long. I promise."

Madi wrinkled her nose at him and grinned, flirtatiously. "Matthew Cooper. If you think, for one moment, that I'll let you out of my sight, you're sadly mistaken. I know exactly what would happen. As soon as you boarded that train, they'd be some other girl making eyes at you and trying to steal your heart away."

He returned her grin before leaning down to claim her lips. When the kiss ended, he hugged her against him. "That would be tough - seein' as how I'd be leavin' my heart here, with you."

She felt a warm tingle of pleasure over his words and replied, saucily, "Well, that won't be necessary, since I intend to go to Colorado Springs with you."

"What about your mother?" he asked. "I thought she wanted you to go shopping with her and pick up material for the bridesmaids' dresses or somethin'."

"The material can wait," Madi answered, firmly. "Right now, the groom is more important to me."

She wound her arms around his neck and initiated another kiss. The discussion was over. They would both be on a train in the morning - together.

***************
Mornings in a jail cell made Hank appreciate the saloon. At the Gold Nugget, he could sleep until noon and no one bothered him. His girls slept late too and his patrons didn't start to trickle in until the middle of the afternoon, as a rule. But here, in this hovel from Hell, he had no such luxury. As soon as the town stirred, he was wide awake. The noises filtered in through the bars on his window - kids shouting at each other, horse hooves pounding along the hard-packed dirt of the street, dogs barking. Dogs. There were always dogs barking somewhere, or so it seemed. Hank didn't care much for dogs.

He opened one eye as McKay entered the jailhouse. Hank growled at the man. "Somebody should tell everyone ta shut the hell up! A man's got a right ta sleep, don't he?"

McKay half-grinned. "I see that you woke up in your usual good mood. Want somethin' from Grace's?"

Hank groaned and sat up on the cot, shifting his body to work the kinks out of his back. "Yeh. Ask her for some of that black tar she calls coffee. And bring me back a couple of those blueberry muffins, while you're at it."

"That's all?" McKay asked, politely.

Hank snorted. "I ain't exactly doin' much ta work up an appetite, sheriff!"

McKay nodded. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

"No need ta rush," Hank drawled, as McKay slipped through the door once more. He glanced around at the same four walls that he'd been staring at for days now. "No need at all," he muttered.

"Talkin' to yourself, Hank."

He was actually startled at the sound of Myra's voice and he jumped slightly. She must have managed to slip inside the building as the door was shutting behind McKay. He covered his surprise with a crooked, lazy grin.

"Figured that my own company is better than most," he said, sarcastically, then he nodded toward her. "Speakin' of company, what are you doin' here?"

Myra sighed as she approached the jail cell. "It's Samantha."

Hank half-laughed. "Ya got a real little spitfire there, that's for sure."

"She won't speak ta me, Hank." Myra looked as if she was on the verge of tears. "She thinks ...."

"I know what she thinks," Hank interrupted. When Myra frowned at him in confusion, he shrugged. "She paid me a little visit yesterday."

"What?" Myra's hand flew to her throat, "What did ya say to her?"

"Now don't go gettin' all riled up with me," Hank cautioned, defensively, as he rose to his feet to face her. "I told her that you and me are friends and we've been friends for a long time now. She's got some fool idea in her head that I had somethin' ta do with you and good old Horace breakin' up but I told her that ain't so. I said you was never happy with Horace and ...."

"You told her that I was never happy with him?! Hank ...."

"Well, you weren't, were ya?" He studied her shocked face as she shook her head, firmly.

"That ain't true. I was happy with him ... when I first married him. I can't help it if things didn't stay the same between us but ...." Her eyes were wide and panicked. "What's Sam gonna think now? She already wonders if Horace and me ever really loved each other and, after this .... Hank, what am I gonna say ta her? What can I do? She'll never believe me now."

Her eyes had grown moist and Hank felt distinctly uncomfortable. He never did know how to handle distraught or hysterical women. "I told ya a long time ago, Myra," he said, soothingly, "that you're a good ma."

The tears had spilled out over her eyelashes now and they were trickling down her cheeks. "How can you say that? I sent Samantha away cause I couldn't deal with her on my own. And, as soon as I come inta town, I go runnin' off ta see you instead of takin' the time ta visit Sam, like I shoulda. What kind of mother does that?"

Hank couldn't contain his own curiosity. "So, why did ya?" He looked directly into her eyes. "Why did ya come ta see me first, Myra?"

Maybe it was her emotional state, or maybe it was just the fact that Myra had never been very good at lying, but she squared her shoulders and told him the truth. "Cause ... I always had feelin's for you, Hank. Sure, I was mad at ya a lot and I didn't like the way you treated me when I worked for ya but ... there were times when you and me ... when bein' together felt right, ya know? After I married Horace and things got ... sorta boring ... I thought about those times and .... Truth is, I've thought bout those times a lot over the years. I've thought about you a lot too, Hank."

Her fingers were wrapped around the bars of the cell and he reached out to place both of his hands over hers. "I thought bout you too, Myra. I wondered bout you ... how ya was doin' on your own, if ya met anyone special. Sometimes ...."

He hesitated. "Go on," she urged.

"Sometimes it gets lonely, Myra. Sometimes I think bout settlin' down but, cept for you and Zak's ma, I ain't never met anyone that seems like the right one, ya know?"

Myra drew in her breath. "But I did, Hank? I seemed like the right one?"

He nodded, self-consciously.

She expelled the breath, slowly. "A lot of years have gone by. A lot has changed," she whispered. "I dunno if things could ever be the same between us again. I dunno if I'd want 'em ta be."

He let his hands fall away from the bars and injected the old familiar sarcasm back into his tone. "Well, ya got lots of time ta think about it. I ain't goin' nowhere - least not til they wrap a rope round my neck."

"Don't even talk that way!" Myra chastised.

He snorted, softly. "That's why your daughter came here - ta tell me that she's hopin' they hang me."

"Samantha said that?!" Myra gasped. "Oh Hank, I gotta talk ta her. I gotta come up with somethin' to say that'll make things right again."

As he examined her desperate expression, Hank decided to hide his thoughts from her. As far as he was concerned, it was too late.

***************
Duncan Lodge loved this time of day - especially this particular morning. There was something invigorating about a town opening up for business. He could practically smell the aroma of money, feel the power as his clients placed their savings into his outstretched hand, taste the sweet flavour of profit. As he unlocked the door to his law office and stepped inside, Michaela Quinn was uppermost in his mind. She was the main reason for his feelings of elation that morning. He had a whole new lease on life.

He moved across the room and dropped his hat onto the top of his desk, before moving over to the window. Brushing back the curtains with one hand, he stared down the street toward the clinic. Within a second, Michaela's horse came into view as it trotted up the main street of town. Michaela came to a halt at the clinic porch and dismounted, winding the horse's reins around a spike driven into one of the support pillars and pulling them into a loose knot. He continued to study her until she disappeared through the door of the clinic.

Perhaps he'd been a bit too forward with her last night, he mused now. He hadn't intended to reveal so much about his intentions or his passion toward her. But the wine he'd consumed merely served to heighten those light-headed feelings he always experienced whenever he was close to the woman. He frowned and sighed, allowing the curtain to fall back into place again. There was still the unpleasant matter of her husband, of course. She'd been devastated when the cad failed to show up for their romantic dinner - a clear indication that she still had some feelings left for the man, in spite of her declaration that she was tired of the treatment she'd received at his hands. He knew enough about women to realize that it wouldn't take much persuasion for Sully to win over her heart once more. He squared his jaw as he moved back to his desk and slumped down onto the chair behind it. Well, he wouldn't allow that to happen. Michaela needed to constantly be reminded of the man's betrayal and of the pain he'd caused her. And Duncan had every intention of being on hand to keep those memories fresh in Michaela Quinn's mind.

He picked up a pen and tapped the end of it against the edge of the desk. He'd wait until mid-afternoon, when the café was empty, and then he'd go over to the clinic and insist that she join him for a coffee and a piece of pie. An afternoon break from their busy schedules. If he employed all his charm, it should be easy enough to convince her. Then he'd casually mention her anger and disappointment from the previous evening. He'd convince her to confide in him once more. If he played his cards carefully, confiding in Duncan Lodge would grow into a habit with Michaela. After a while, he'd become indispensable to her - invaluable. And she'd learn to love him as intensely and completely as he loved her. Duncan was certain of it.

******************
It was a school day but, for some strange reason, Katie was absent again. Sam now knew that Katie wasn't spending time with her father, like she'd previously assumed. Sully had deserted the family for ... Luke's mother. Sam still found it hard to believe but, if her mother could have feelings for someone like Hank Lawson, anything was possible. She waited until lunch-time before she decided to steal away. The decision was strengthened by the behaviour of some girls her own age. When she came out into the yard and sat down on the grass to eat her lunch, three of them were sitting a few feet away from her. They shielded their mouths with their hands and whispered together, stealing long, sideways glances in her direction. Sam knew they were talking about her - they were always talking about her. Ever since she'd beaten up that boy outside Hank's saloon when she'd first arrived in town, she'd been shunned by the others. He deserved it - he'd insulted her mother and said horrible things to Sam. But no one seemed to care about that. The girls all spouted off, saying that no 'lady' would ever act that way and the boys all snickered and said, "She ain't no lady. Just look at her ma!" And they'd all laugh together and turn their backs toward her. That was the pattern and it was repeated almost every day at school. Sam wanted to knock down all the boys and pound the daylights out of them or trip all the girls and send them sprawling, face-down, in the dirt. But it wouldn't help matters. Katie had convinced her of that.

She sighed. At least, when Katie was at school, she could ignore the others. She sat with her friend and they'd laugh and tell secrets and imagine all kinds of wonderful adventures. Katie would share her knowledge of nature with Sam and talk about all the things she discovered when she went on treks into the woods with her father. Sam sometimes felt a twinge of envy but it didn't change the way she felt about the girl. Katie was her very best friend.

She swallowed her last bite of sandwich and rose to her feet. The girls stared over at her, smirks plastered across their faces. Sam did something that she knew was very immature but she just couldn't help herself - she stuck out her tongue at them! They wrinkled their noses in disgust.

"Told ya she's strange!" one of them sneered.

Sam glared, spun around and marched away. Without another glance in their direction, she headed down the road. She'd be in trouble with Senora Slicker for skipping school but, at that moment, it didn't matter. She had to see Katie.

She was just approaching the Sully homestead when Katie called out to her. Sam's eyes scanned the woods beside her as the little girl summoned her again. "Sam! Over here!"

Samantha stepped into the woods and spotted her friend right away. Katie was squatting beside a pool of water, her long brown hair falling forward until it practically brushed the surface of the pond. "Sam, look! It's the biggest bullfrog I've ever seen!"

Sam knelt beside her friend and stared at the slimy green creature as the frog stared back at her. It sat, perched on the edge of the bank, and it was enormous - the uncontested King of the Pond. An unexpected anger suddenly swelled up inside of Sam and she slapped at the pond with the palm of her hand. Panicked, the frog sprang from the edge and, instantly, disappeared beneath the water. Katie turned wide, accusing eyes toward her friend.

"Why'd you do that?" she demanded.

Sam shrugged. "Don't like bullfrogs. They think they can do whatever they want, just cause they're bigger than everything else around them. Bullfrogs think they own everything."

Katie took a moment to digest this as the anger drained away from her expression. "What are ya doin' here?" she asked Sam, pulling back from the edge of the pond and settling down onto the grass. "Why aren't ya in school?"

"I was. It was boring." Sam eyed her friend, curiously. "Why aren't you?"

"Didn't feel like it," Katie muttered, glancing away as she avoided Sam's eyes.

"Is it cause of your folks? You too upset ta go to school?"

Katie didn't answer and Sam sighed. "I'd understand it, if ya were. I feel that way right now. I don't feel much like goin' to school. I don't feel like goin' home at night, either. My Pa tries to be so cheerful but I know he's not ... and my Ma keeps comin' round, trying to get me to talk to her. I just want her to go away and go back to Denver. I just want her to leave us alone."

Katie studied Sam for a long time before she finally responded. When she did, her voice was soft and hesitant. "Your folks are likely just pretendin' - like mine are."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked, sharply.

"My folks. They're playing a game," Katie admitted. "That's why I can't go to school. They don't want me to tell no one and they think I might say too much, if they let me go back. So I stay home."

"What are you talking about?" Sam was feeling slightly irritated. Katie's words made absolutely no sense.

Slowly, Katie started to outline the deception and, by the time she'd finished, she'd revealed the entire truth to her friend. "Anyway," she finished, sheepishly, "I guess that's why they don't let me go to school ‘cause I talk too much, like I just did now. But I didn't wanna lie to you no more, Sam. I wanted you to know the truth. You're my best friend."

Sam nodded. "I know. You're mine too. I thought something wasn't right. I figured your Pa would never leave his family."

"Don't you see?" Katie asked, suddenly animated. "Your folks are doin' the same thing. They're pretendin' so they can help Hank too. I bet that's what's happenin'. And Luke's Ma is pretendin'. It's all part of their game."

Sam shook her head, unconvinced. "I dunno, Katie. Why would my folks do that? I mean, how could they help him? Your folks might be able to but what could mine do?"

Katie had no answer and she stared at Sam, somberly.

"I think you're wrong, Katie," Sam insisted. "I'm glad your folks love each other and everything's okay. I really am. But my folks don't."

"You're the one who's wrong, Sam," Katie told her, stubbornly. "You'll see."

The girl shook her head again. "No Katie. My folks hate each other. And I hate them - both of them. And I'm not goin' home again - not til my mother leaves."

***************
Horace stepped out of his telegraph office and climbed down from the platform, heading across the train tracks toward the centre of town. It felt like everyone was watching him. He straightened his shoulders, his body stiff and awkward as he moved, his steps clumsy and unnatural. It was just plain humiliating -that's what it was! It was bad enough that Myra shamed him that first time she left him but, now, she'd come back to rub his nose in it, and to flaunt her relationship with Hank in front of the whole town. Not to mention what she was doing to Samantha - Lord only knew what kind of damage that would cause! His embarrassment was replaced by a slowly boiling anger. Damn! He wasn't a swearing man but, well, there was only so much he could take! And Myra had crossed the line of decency, as far as he was concerned.

He was so consumed with his own indignation that he hadn't paid much attention to the contents of the telegram he held in his hand. He walked toward the clinic, convinced that people were peering at him from every corner, even though the street was practically deserted. Stepping up onto the porch, he rapped on the clinic door. Michaela called out and Horace entered the building. She was sitting behind her desk, a patient's chart spread open in front of her, and she glanced up at him.

"Horace? What can I do for you?"

He held out the telegram. "You got a wire. From Matthew." She eagerly snatched it out of his hand and he stood there, quietly, as she read it, a deep frown on her face.

"You wanna answer him, Dr. Mike?"

She waved a hand at him, distracted. "No. He says they're catching the train from Denver today. There wouldn't be enough time." She glanced at Horace again. "Thank you anyway, Horace."

He nodded and hesitated. He would have dearly loved to confide in the woman. She was usually so sympathetic and she always knew the right things to say. But she looked preoccupied and, even, a little upset. Still ...

"Horace?" she asked, noticing his reluctance. "Is there something else?"

He considered his options for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, Dr. Mike. No, everythin's fine." As he turned to leave, he felt the weight of the world crashing down onto his shoulders once more. In all his life, Horace Bing had never felt so alone.

***************
Mid afternoon. The café was empty. Grace stood over her outdoor cookstove, staring down into a steaming pot and stirring the contents with a wooden spoon. With her back turned, she never noticed the figure creeping up to the rear door of the clinic and slipping inside.

He made his way along the hallway toward the front of the clinic and hid around the corner for a minute, listening intently to gauge if Michaela had any patients in the room. All he heard was the ticking of the wall clock and the noises filtering in from the street outside. When he slipped into the room, he immediately spotted Michaela at her desk, frowning down at a slip of paper in her hand. A floorboard creaked beneath his weight and her head jerked up.

"Sully!" she called out, in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He placed a finger against his lips and quietly approached her, cautiously avoiding the window along one wall. She stood up as he drew closer and came around the desk, effectively blocking the view from the window behind her as well. Standing in the centre of the room, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her, passionately.

When she pulled back, she was breathless. "I missed you last night," she whispered.

He nodded, his eyes troubled. "You promised that, if I came ta see you today, you'd tell me what's botherin' you."

"I never expected you to come here! I thought you'd go to the homestead tonight, when it was dark. You're taking a big risk, Sully."

"Shhh... Why don't you let me worry bout that." She broke out of his embrace and he studied her. "Michaela ... what is it?"

"Nothing," she lied, before looking down at the telegraph still clutched between her fingers. "Actually that's not true. I just got this telegram from Matthew."

Sully nodded and she began reading:

'Found some information on Duncan. Things are not what they appear to be. Madi and I are catching the train out of Denver today. I'll explain everything then. Matthew.'

Sully pulled the wire from her grasp and read the words himself, then handed it back to her. "So, whaddaya think it means?"

"I don't know," she admitted, shaking her head. "But if Matthew's coming all the way from Denver to tell me, it can't be good."

There was an uneasy expression on Sully's face as he nodded in agreement. "Well, guess we'll find out soon enough. Matthew should be here before long."

When she failed to respond, he pressured her again. "Michaela, talk ta me. What else is wrong?"

"I don't know," she admitted, helplessly. "I feel so foolish yet, at the same time, I can't help myself. It's ...." Sully gestured for her to continue and the words came out in a rush. "Luke spoke to Samantha and she spoke to Katie. It seems that Luke witnessed ... something ... between you and White Feather, something .... Well, he says that White Feather was making advances toward you and now Luke is upset with you. He thinks you're involved with his mother. And Samantha believes it too."

"And Katie?" Sully asked quietly, dread in his tone.

"No," Michaela reassured him, quickly. "She thinks it's all part of the game we've been playing but ..."

She paused for a long moment, her gaze falling to the floor. Sully ducked his head to try to catch her expression but, when that tactic failed, he placed his fingers under her chin and forced her to look up at him. "And you? What about you, Michaela? Do you believe it?"

"Of course not," she said, but there was no conviction in her voice. "I don't believe that you're involved with that woman but ... is the other part true, Sully? Did she make advances toward you, in front of Luke?"

He sighed, heavily. "She spoke to me ... yes ... but I had no idea that Luke was there."

"And how did you answer her?" There was no possibility of masking the jealousy in Michaela's words or in her eyes now.

"How could I answer her? As far as she knows, we're not together no more. I told her that I still loved you and we were tryin' ta work things out, that's all."

Michaela closed her eyes for a moment, apparently struggling with an internal battle. When she looked at him again, there was a combative spark in their depths. "Do you know what she'll think now? Do you know what most women would think, Sully?"

"What?"

"She'll think she has a chance with you, that there's every possibility that you and I won't get back together again. And she'll probably redouble her efforts to win you over."

Normally he would have argued with her, or tried to reassure her, but he knew she was probably right this time. White Feather was a determined, aggressive woman. She'd proven that many times in the past. "Alright," he announced, holding up one hand. "This has gone far enough. I'm goin' back there ta tell her the truth. I gotta. And once I talk to her, I'll be talkin' ta Luke too."

Michaela actually looked relieved. "I can't say that I disagree with that decision! But ..." She glanced down at the telegram again and her expression changed from one of relief to one of concern. "What about this, Sully? What should we do?"

"Can't do nothin' til Matthew gets here and tells us what's been happenin'," Sully stated, reasonably. "I'll go out to White Feather's and then come back to the homestead after dark tonight."

"You're leaving?" Michaela's voice sounded small, almost timid. "Now?"

She glanced at the door to the clinic, a worried frown on her face.

"Why? What's wrong?"

Shaking her head quickly, she jumped in to reassure him. "Nothing. It's nothing. I just had a strange feeling come over me ... a frightening feeling but ... it's just my imagination. I'm letting all of this secrecy get the best of me."

He studied her, closely. "Michaela, do you want me to stay with you for a spell? I could."

"No," she said, firmly. "No, Sully, you need to speak with White Feather and Luke. I'll be fine - just fine - really. As I said, it's probably just a case of nerves." He hesitated and she gave him a gentle push toward the back door. "Stop worrying and go!"

He caught her up in his arms again and pulled her against him. The kiss was long and deep and neither one of them wanted to break apart when it was over.

"I love you, Michaela," he whispered.

"I love you, too."

******************
The only person who saw Sully slip out of the clinic again was Duncan Lodge. He'd been in the process of leaving his law office, straightening his vest and smoothing down his hair when he spotted the man. If he hadn't happened to glance in that direction at that precise moment, he would have missed him entirely. The man moved like a shadow and disappeared from sight before Duncan had the chance to bat an eyelid.

But he'd been there! No doubt trying to sway Michaela and convince her to take him back again. Well, Duncan wouldn't allow that to happen. He intended to invite Michaela out for coffee anyway but now it was even more crucial. With long, hurried strides, he cleared the space between his office and her clinic and burst in through the front door. Michaela was standing near the back of the main room, a piece of paper in her hand. When the door crashed open, she lost her grip on the paper and it fluttered to the floor of the clinic. There was an expression in her eyes - one of foreboding, even fear - and she was staring at Duncan like someone would stare at a criminal. He moved over to pick up the telegram. She gasped aloud as his fingers closed around it.

Normally, he wouldn't look at someone else's personal correspondence but Michaela's reaction alerted him and curiosity seized control. Straightening slowly, he scanned the contents of the wire. His eyes flew from the paper to her face. She looked trapped and, as he took a menacing step toward her, she spun around and bolted toward the back hallway, screaming out her husband's name.

"Sully!"

He caught up with her before she had a chance to escape into the hall and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, then clamped one hand over her mouth.

"What's this?" he hissed into her ear. "Calling out to that useless husband of yours, are you? Why Michaela, you led me to believe that the two of you were no longer on speaking terms. You haven't been lying to me, have you?"

She shook her head, wildly, against the restraint of his hand and he dragged her back toward the front of the clinic. Then he spun her around to face him. "Tell me the truth," he ordered. His voice was deadly calm and dangerous. "Have you been asking questions about me? Is that why your son has been sticking his nose in where it doesn't belong? And why was your husband here? Did you show him this?" He let go of her while he waved the telegram in front of her face. "What game have you been playing, Michaela?"

She took advantage of her temporary freedom to make another mad dash toward the back door. "Sully!!"

He caught her before she could take more than five steps. Clamping a hand over her mouth again, he sneered. "Save your breath. He's long gone. He can't help you now. No one can."

He glanced around as he held onto her. Duncan had no plan in mind. He wasn't even certain if Michaela knew much about his past but, judging by her reaction, she was clearly terrified of him. That could only mean one thing - she knew something. More than that, and the worst thing of all in his opinion, was the fact that she was calling out for her husband. It infuriated him! His gaze fell onto a bottle of chloroform and the cloth lying beside it. He yanked her toward it as she struggled and fought. She was a petite woman but she had a strength that amazed him. It was all he could do to hold onto her. Finally, he pinned her against the wall with his body, leaving one of his hands free to grab the bottle. It was necessary to uncover her mouth so he could use his other hand to work the cork loose. She took advantage of the opportunity, screaming shrilly.

"Shut up!" he barked, dampening the cloth with the chloroform. She opened her mouth again but he shoved the cloth into her face, muffling the sound. She struggled for only a couple of seconds before her body started to go limp. Once he was certain that she was unconscious, he eased back and allowed her to slide to the floor, her back propped up against the wall. She looked like a rag doll.

He stood over top of her, staring down in despair. All of his plans - everything he'd dreamed about - ruined! Or was it? His mind began clicking as new possibilities started to form and grow. Pinning her with his body a couple of moments ago, and feeling her as she squirmed against him, had been stimulating, in spite of the circumstances. If he had her alone long enough, if she was totally dependent on him, he had a chance to gain her respect. Once he explained his actions to her, he might even win her sympathy. And she'd be forced to rely on him, in the same way that she'd relied on that primitive husband of hers. She seemed to like a man who acted like a savage, one who could dominate her. Perhaps it wasn't so hopeless, after all.

Right at the moment though, he had to figure out how to spirit her away from the clinic, without anyone noticing. They couldn't afford to stay here but, by the same token, it was broad daylight outside. If there was some way to hide her ... His gaze fell upon a stack of sheets and blankets stacked up on a cabinet in one corner of the room. He half-laughed. It would truly be amusing if he could deceive this town of dullards by sneaking their doctor out of the clinic, right under their very noses. He and Michaela would laugh about it some day. As he moved over to the stack of bedding, his mind was already rehearsing the conversation. He'd carry her out, wrapped up from head to toe in the sheets and load her into his buggy. If anyone questioned him, he'd simply tell them that he was helping out. An old hermit died and Michaela had promised to return the man's body to his family up in the foothills. And, if they came too close, he'd warn them that the cause of the man's death had not yet been determined but Michaela suspected that it could be the beginnings of another epidemic. They needed to be extremely careful. That would not only stop them from examining the 'body', it would also discourage them from entering the clinic for a while. It was perfect - indisputable evidence of brains over brawn. These simple townsfolk could never hope to outwit Duncan Lodge.

As he picked up several sheets, a demented smile was stretched across his lips.

* * * * * * * * * *

Chapter Ten
by Jean McQuaid

Spinning a web of lies and deceit,
No turning back now, no calling retreat.
Changing character, it's part of the game,
Show no remorse or feel no shame.
Beware the prickly thorns of the rose,
Passions flair but trust never grows.
One slip of the tongue or fault in the voice
Puts lives in danger, by chance not by choice.

by: Jean McQuaid
********************
Desperately seeking diversion from her own problems, Sam decided it was time to help Luke. Her feelings towards the free-spirited Indian boy were now far beyond that of a simple friendship. Not unlike the lady doctor and the mountain man, they were so very different yet so much alike. Those girls at school meant nothing to her yet she couldn't help feeling like a weed in a rose garden and, most likely, Luke felt the same way, being part Indian, living in a white man's world. But Samantha would be devastated if Luke rejected her and what about her best friend, Katie? Katherine Sully never hid the fact she was totally captivated by Luke. How would she react to a relationship between Samantha and Luke? Maybe it was best if they just remained friends. There were already too many people hurting these days.

Luke was chopping wood at the side of the cabin as Samantha approached. Her eyes widened at the sight of his tanned skin glowing in the hot afternoon sun and she had to catch her breath before gathering enough courage to speak.

"Hi Luke."

The boy stopped what he was doing and wiped away beads of sweat from his face before responding. "Sam. What're you doin' here?"

Not exactly the greeting she'd hoped for, but then what had she expected? He was a man and how would he know what was really on her mind.

"I had to see you......." she stopped. "I mean, I came to help you with that dinner for your Ma and Uncle."

"Now?"

"Why not now? Is your mother here?"

"No. She and my uncle went to see Cloud Dancing."

"Perfect!" Sam jumped down from her horse. "I'll get started inside while you go pick a bouquet of flowers."

"Flowers?"

"Yes silly, for the table. I want everything to be just right." She headed towards the cabin, turning back briefly to a stunned Luke. "Well? Are you gonna get the flowers or..."

"Okay, I'm going."

By the time Luke returned with what he decided was a very nice bunch of wild flowers, Samantha had already set the table and stood looking over it with great pride as the young boy entered the cabin. "So, how do you like it?"

"I guess it's all right."

"All right? Men!" Samantha, disgusted with his reaction, reached for the vase she'd filled with water. "Put the flowers in here and set them in the center of the table. Then I need you to help me make the biscuits."

"I don't know anything about makin' biscuits!."

"Neither do I but I guess we'll learn, won't we? Now read what it says in that cookbook on the table and I'll do the mixing."

Luke carefully began to read the instructions as Samantha picked up the sack of flour, attempting to tip it just enough to allow some of the flour to pour into the bowl. But the sack was heavy and she started to wobble back and forth. "Luke, help me!"

But it was already too late as the contents of the sack spilled out all over the floor. "Now look what you've done," Luke shouted. "I thought you knew how to cook!"

Samantha began to cry. "I only wanted to help. I'm sorry."

Luke was ashamed of the tone he'd taken with her and tried to console her by wiping flour from her face with a dish towel. "I'm sorry too, Sam. I know you meant well. I just thought all women knew about these things."

"What things?"

"You know, woman things like cookin' and...."

"Luke O'Donnell, you're just like the rest of them, thinking a woman's place is in the kitchen, cooking and cleaning, why I!" Samantha reached for a handful of flour and threw it at the unsuspecting boy. "Women can do other things, you know!"

Suddenly it was like a game as Luke, in turn, grabbed flour and threw it right back at Samantha. Before long there was flour everywhere. The two looked at each other and began to laugh, falling to the floor in exhaustion. Samantha was feeling so giddy and happy and, acting out of pure impulse, leaned over to kiss Luke on the lips.

He pulled back, in surprise. "Why'd you do that?"

Blushing, Samantha replied, "I don't know, it just felt like the right thing to do. Didn't you like it?"

Luke jumped to his feet and grabbed her by the arms, pulling her up with him. "I didn't say that, but it's wrong. We cannot...."

"You cannot what?" came a voice from the open door. "What is going on here?"

Luke and Samantha turned sharply to see White Feather and Patrick O'Donnell standing in the doorway to the cabin.

Samantha was embarrassed beyond words and brushed past Luke's angry mother and Uncle on her way out the door. Feeling very much alone, she mounted her horse and ignored the pleas from Luke as he tried to catch up with her. Not only had she ruined the special dinner but, most likely, her wonderful friendship with Luke.

****************
"Horace, we gotta talk."

"We ain't got much to talk about."

"Yes we do Horace, our daughter."

"Guess you should've thought 'bout that before you marched yourself over ta see Hank the minute ya got here."

"Are you gonna keep harpin' on that. I'm sorry. I was wrong. I can see that now but Horace, things are only gonna keep gettin' worse with Samantha if we don't do somethin'"

"Myra, I can't keep tellin' my daughter things I don't believe anymore myself"

"What do ya mean?"

"What I mean Myra, is that if you want to be with Hank, then go, be with him. Otherwise, you best be gettin' back on that train cause Samantha and I don't need ya anymore. We was just gettin' to be a real father and daughter before you came back, stirrin' up more trouble."

"I didn't come here to cause trouble, Horace."

"Then why did ya come, Myra, 'an don't go tellin' me it was ta see me or Samantha."

"I deserve that, Horace, I know and maybe you're right, maybe I did come ta see Hank. But that don't change the fact that Samantha has problems, big problems. So you can think whatcha like Horace, 'bout me 'an Hank, but I ain't leavin until I know Samantha's gonna be all right! " She turned to walk away. "Cause no matter what you think of me, I'm still her Ma and I love her more than anythin' in this world. I can't change who I am or what I was but I can make sure my daughter knows both her Ma and Pa love her!"

"Wait, Myra. I want that too. I don't know what we're gonna say to her and how but nothin's more important to me than Samantha's happiness." Horace hung his head. "Samantha's growin' up, Myra. she needs her Ma to tell her things. Woman things."

"You mean about boys and bein' in love?" Myra started to smile.

"Exactly. I thought 'bout askin' Dr. Mike but I think it's better comin' from her own Ma, don't you?"

Myra threw her arms around him. "And her Pa!"

Horace looked down at the woman he'd taken for his wife. God how he'd wished things had worked out between them. "When are ya goin' back home?"

"I ain't decided yet. I wanna hear what Sam wants me to do first, then I'll make my decision."

"You mean you wouldn't base your decision on Hank?"

"I never did in the past an' I ain't gonna now. The only thing I'm real sure about is that I finally found freedom and I ain't about to give that up for no man, not even Hank!"

*******************
Anxiously waiting for the train to depart for Colorado Springs, Matthew occupied himself with a law book. Madi had just pulled some needlework from her bag when she spotted the well dressed man seated in the row behind them. She nudged Matthew gently with her elbow but. when he failed to respond. she nudged him harder and leaned over to whisper, "Isn't that the man you were talking to earlier, Mr. Lodge?"

Matthew immediately looked up to see her little finger making a gesture for him to turn around. Matthew did as he was directed and saw Preston Lodge just picking up the Denver paper, preparing to read it.

"Preston?"

Preston Lodge looked up but didn't appear surprised. "Matthew"

"You got some business in Colorado Springs, maybe with Duncan?"

Preston leaned forward as to keep their conversation private. "I don't see that it's any of your business why I'm on this particular train."

"Same old Preston. I ain't gonna press ya right now but, when we get off this train, I'm makin darn sure you tell Dr. Mike everything about that brother of yours. "

"Yes, fine Matthew, whatever you say. Now, if you don't mind, I'd really like to relax with my newspaper and we can discuss this matter at a more appropriate time." He tipped his hat to Madi and lifted his paper, covering his face.

Madi leaned in to Matthew. "You're doing the right thing, Matthew, by going home and I'm so glad you let me come along. I'm getting a very bad feeling about all this and, when I get these feelings, I'm usually right."

Madi's disclosure didn't make Matthew feel any better. In fact, it heightened his anxiety about getting back home. Why was Preston returning to Colorado Springs? He wouldn't exactly be welcomed with open arms. He was obviously hiding something about his brother. Matthew tried to settle down but his thoughts kept wandering back to the homestead and his family. Would he be able to get there on time before Duncan caused any serious problems or harmed anyone he loved? This was going to be a very long trip and the sooner this darn train got rolling, the sooner he'd find out.

*******************
Elizabeth Quinn's introduction of Dr. Andrew Cook to Colorado Springs was, at first, very unsettling to Michaela. But, as their friendship and respect for one another grew, she was thankful that he'd made the decision to stay. Andrew, in turn, was always grateful for his mother in law's unselfishness to help him. Since Colleen had become a doctor, it was always exciting when the three of them could get together and talk medicine. He'd become more relaxed using the many natural remedies taught to Michaela by Cloud Dancing and, in turn, whenever he received any medical updates, was always eager to share them with Colleen and her mother.

A visiting doctor to the hotel had given Andrew a copy of a new report he'd found most interesting and it became a good excuse for he and his wife to make a surprise visit to see Michaela. Colleen was delighted. It had been a quiet morning and neither of them felt much like staying at the Chateau any longer. But they were disappointed when they finally did reach the clinic and found it empty.

"Michaela must be out visiting a patient or maybe she's over at Grace's. Why don't we head over to the cafe. I'm curious to know how her dinner with Duncan went last night."

But Colleen wasn't paying any attention to Andrew. She'd picked up a crumpled piece of paper from the floor as she headed over to the medicine cabinet. "That's odd?"

"What is?"

"Dr. Mike never leaves her medicine cabinet unlocked. It's just not like her, Andrew."

"Colleen, even your mother slips up sometimes. What's the piece of paper in your hand?"

"I don't know. Looks like a telegram. I don't like reading other people's telegrams." But, as Colleen went to set the paper down, she noticed the name on the bottom. It was from her brother in Denver.

"It's from Matthew. I don't think Ma would mind us reading it, do you?"

"I guess not."

As they both read the contents of the telegram, a look of fear shadowed Colleen's face. "Andrew, I don't like the look of this. You head over to the cafe and I'll go see if Mr. Bray or Miss Dorothy have seen Ma. She has to be somewhere in town. Her medical bag is still hanging on the hook by her coat. Andrew, Ma never goes anywhere without her bag."

******************
Michaela was terrified. Memories of being trapped in the clinic returned, the nightmare still fresh in her mind of not being able to move, to see or breath. Her arms felt like dead weights and everything around her was spinning so fast, as if the tornado was inside her head. Trying to suppress the dizziness as she attempted to open her eyes, a blurred vision suddenly appeared before her.

"Sully?" But there was no answer, just the sound of heavy breathing. Again she attempted to make contact. "Where am I?"

"Where would you like to be, Michaela?"

Her vision was far too impaired to focus on the face but it was definitely the voice of a man. "What do you mean?"

"Let your imagination run free, Michaela. If you could be anywhere in the world right at this moment, where would it be? San Francisco, New York, Paris or," he paused. "London! Yes, that's it, London. Think about it, my darling - a quiet stroll along the Thames on a warm afternoon, a picnic basket on one arm and you, my dear sweet Michaela, on the other."

He took hold of her hands and she could feel his moist lips as they dragged across her fingers, gently planting small kisses here and there. There was no mistake about it, this was definitely not Sully. He hated large cities and would never suggest such an absurd idea.

Suddenly it all came back to her. This was Duncan Lodge. Like diving into an icy cold waterfall, she was shaken back to the reality of the situation and remembered the feeling of the damp cloth as it covered her face. But, watching his reaction to the telegram, made her wonder why he was now being so congenial? Why wasn't he upset that she'd looked into his past? Either way, she'd have to feel her way along with him carefully if she was ever going to figure him out.

She was beginning to recover her full vision now and could see the distant look in his eyes. "That sounds enchanting, Duncan."

But his mood changed drastically and the hate in his voice frightened her beyond belief. "Yes, it does, doesn't it. But, I'm afraid my dear lady, that it was only a fool's dream, a dream that might have become a wonderful reality if only you hadn't lied to me!"

She tried to speak but he placed a hand over her mouth. "Don't say a word, Melanie. I'm not a fool and I won't be lied to any longer!" His anger was definitely accentuated by the loudness of his voice. "No more lies!!"

Michaela knew the confinement of being trapped by material things but this type of confinement was more difficult to deal with. She felt like the fool now as she looked about, what was obviously, an abandoned old cabin. But even more distressing was the fact he called her Melanie. Was this the name of another poor unfortunate female who'd crossed the path of Duncan Lodge? If he'd killed Violet Patterson, he most likely had killed before. But, if she didn't want to become another sacrifice for this man, she'd have to be more convincing than ever that she was no threat to him and try to keep up the facade long enough to get help.

"Duncan, it's me, Michaela, not Melanie. She's gone Duncan, a memory of the past. I'm your future, Duncan." Not sure if the nausea was from the large dose of chloroform or the sickening lies she'd just uttered, Michaela was determined to calm his anger and replenish his trust in her.

He looked down at her, in confusion, his eyes filled with bewilderment. He looked like a little boy trying to understand why he'd been reprimanded and the same feeling carried through in his voice. "Why Michaela? Why did you have to lie to me? I thought you were different. Why did you lead me on, taunt me with your charm and beauty? Surely you must have known I'd fall into your trap, like the fly to the spider's web, surely you knew I couldn't resist you, Michaela? "

"But I didn't lie to you, Duncan."

"I saw him, Michaela. I saw Sully leaving your office and that telegram... why didn't you just ask me if you wanted to know about my past? I would have told you. I would have done anything for you, anything."

Michaela reacted out of shear desperation, one last attempt to gain control of this ominous situation. "Sully made me send the telegram, Duncan. It wasn't my idea, it was his. He said you couldn't be trusted but I told him that I believed you could. Horace told him I'd received a reply back from Matthew and he came to see it for himself. You have to believe me, Duncan." She prayed he'd believe her because this was the last lie she would tell. Enough was enough and making all these terrible accusations about Sully was more than her conscience and heart could stand. If he didn't calm down and believe her, it was over, and she would have to make an about-turn to recover her own dignity. If she was about to die, it wouldn't be without a struggle and, at least, she'd have the satisfaction of knowing, once and for all, if Duncan Lodge did, indeed, take the life of Violet Patterson. Somehow, some way, she'd leave behind a clue that would have this man hang for murder and not Hank Lawson.

Duncan became melancholy and Michaela was taken aback when tears began to appear in his eyes. "Do you have any idea how it makes a man feel when he's been made a fool of by the woman he loves? Do you, Michaela.?"

"Is that what happened with Melanie? Did she make a fool out of you, Duncan?"

He sat for a long time, staring at the floor, not once lifting his face so she could see into his eyes.

"Melanie was my fiancée. We were to be married, in the spring. But I was struggling in law school and her parents decided that, until I could prove to them that their daughter could be well taken care of, in a manner in which she was accustomed to, that we should wait. I worked very hard at school, but my marks never improved and it was looking as if we'd never be able to get married. I tried making money at other jobs, proving that I could do almost anything. But nothing was ever good enough for Melanie. The worst part was that, not only were her parents embarrassed by me, but Melanie herself became very distant. There were rumors that she was seeing someone else and had done so for quite some time. Here I was, a desperate young man struggling to make a life for my fiancée and myself, and all the while she was having a romance with another man. The final blow came one day when I overheard the two of them, Melanie and her lover, discussing me and how I was such a fool, a failure at everything I touched. When I had my chance to confront Melanie alone, all she did was laugh at me, mock me until I could take no more. Melanie was my life, my first love. She belonged to me, not to him. So, as Melanie had stolen my heart, I stole something from her, something that should have been mine anyway. Some may call it rape, violating another person but, if I violated Melanie's body, it was only because she had violated my heart and I demanded revenge, retribution!"

Michaela was terrified but acquired the strength to keep pushing him for more information. "Is that why you killed her?"

Duncan seemed surprised. "Killed her?" He started to laugh. "I only wish I had. I was so humiliated, so hurt, I had to do something but I certainly didn't kill her. I only pray that the scar I've left on her life is as ugly as the one she's left on mine."

"And what about Violet, Duncan? Did she hurt you too?"

"Violet, that little tart! I'm sorry she's dead but she never meant anything to me." Suddenly, the veins in his neck bulged and his face went scarlet. He turned and, with an evil eye, stared down at Michaela. "Is that what this is all about, Violet Patterson? You think I killed her, don't you?"

The time had finally come. Michaela had promised herself no more lies. She had come this far and it was time to see it through, right to the bitter end. "Yes, I do, Duncan."

He jumped up from the cot where Michaela was still laying and threw his arms into the air, laughing. "You really disappoint me, Michaela. Violet had her uses but the mere fact that you would even consider I'd kill that little whore, disgusts even me. Her death served no purpose for me and, frankly, she did a very good job keeping me occupied while I was attempting to lure you into my bed. There was no need for me to kill my main source of entertainment."

Michaela slowly got up from the cot, cautiously making her way to the door. Hopefully Duncan was too preoccupied with his own thoughts to notice she was trying to make her get-away. But a creak in one of the floorboards gave her away and he, immediately, placed himself between her and the door.

Michaela looked around the cabin, realizing she was trapped. Duncan's disposition had become very unpredictable at this point. One minute he was placid, the next he was ill-tempered. There was no telling when his next outburst would occur, or how severe it would be, which left her with no alternative than to fight back. No one knew where they were or even that he had taken her so she was on her own, alone with a very disturbed man who already admitted to rape and, most likely, had committed murder.

The fight and fire that had surfaced many times before in this headstrong woman, once again came to her aid as she raised her chin in defiance. "I suppose you plan to kill me now, too."

Duncan appeared very annoyed. "I told you, I'm not a murderer."

"Then why did you bring me here? Surely it wasn't to have pleasant little chats about picnics in England?"

"I did act in haste when I saw that telegram and I must admit, I took immediate action, not thinking of the consequences. But, now that I have you here all to myself, it seems quite appropriate to reap my just reward. You have a choice, Michaela. You can either make this a very pleasing experience for both of us and allow me to show you what a real man is like, or you can try to fight off my advance. I must warn you though, I'm neither a patient or gentle man, when it comes to having my own way and, mark my words, I will have my own way!"

Once again, his character changed and he held out his arms, expecting her to fall into them. "Oh, my darling Michaela, this is not how I wanted it to be. You are a lady of refinement and culture and should be treated gently and with tender loving hands. But, maybe all these years of being dominated by that savage have changed your taste in men. Have they, Michaela?" He started to move closer. "I can be every bit as wild and untamed as Sully, if that's what you prefer?"

This time it was her anger that flared. "What I prefer, Duncan Lodge, is to get as far away from you as I can. You disgust me and I have no intention of allowing you, or any man other than my husband, to lay a hand on me. Do I make myself clear? I'll fight you Duncan with every ounce of strength and courage in my body. I've stood up to far more devious and dangerous creatures than you and won, and, as much as you're determined to get your own way, I'm even more determined to get mine!"

"Well, well, the delicate little lady from Boston shows a whole new side to her, a side I admit excites me even more. I guess I should be thanking Mr. Sully. That backwoods no-good has turned you into a savage, as well."

He removed his jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves, moving closer and closer to her. Michaela backed away, turning her head from side to side, hoping to find some kind of weapon to fend him off. Desperate, she reached the other side of a small table placed in the center of the room and used it as a barrier between her and Duncan. She was furious that he appeared to be enjoying this chase. She was playing right into his hands.

"Come, come now Michaela, it's only a matter of time before I catch you so why not do us both a favor and come to me now. There's no place to hide and we're so far away from town. No one will ever find us. So relax and come to me, my love."

"Never!" she screamed as she made another dash for the door. But Duncan was quick and he caught her by the arm, ripping the sleeve of her blouse. Michaela looked down at the scratch marks left by his fingernails on her arm and gasped as blood began oozing from them. Silently, she made a promise to herself that he would have to take her life for she would never allow him to take her body. No man ever controlled her before and this one would not be master over her now. She struggled with every ounce of stamina left in her shaking body and was finally rewarded when a hefty slap to his face sent him reeling. Strength and courage came from deep within as she tried again to open the door, and would have succeeded had he not placed a wooden slat across it earlier, as if to keep out any unwanted intruders.

"No!" She pounded at the door, in frustration, and didn't hear Duncan approaching from behind.

"Sorry Michaela, but I'm growing a little tired of this game and I think it's time you conceded that I will get what I want."

Out of breath and exhausted, she turned to face him. "Sully will find me. He always does."

Duncan's devilish laugh sent shivers throughout her body. "Sully won't want you when I get through with you! No man will ever want you again Michaela Quinn!"

"Stop it Duncan! Listen to yourself. I believe you when you said you didn't kill Violet and so will everyone else, and what happened with Melanie is over. You have to let go of the past. You've changed, Duncan. You're not that innocent young man anymore. I've always believed that, deep down inside, there's good in every man. But think about it, Duncan. Do you really want to hurt me? Do you really want to be running for the rest of your life?"

Duncan seemed confused. Obviously, something she'd said had touched a nerve somewhere, but his facial expression was still difficult for Michaela to access. He began massaging his forehead and walked about the room, muttering to himself. Should she wait to see if he would allow her to leave or should she try once more to escape? The bar on the door was so close at hand and, yet, it would take all her effort to lift it. Maybe he was stronger, and maybe he would overtake her, but she couldn't give up now. Freedom was close. With her mind made up, she reached out and grasped the bar and, with her last ounce of strength, lifted it to allow the door of the cabin to be opened.

Chapter 11 ...