Night Watcher
Virtual Season 7
by Paola C.
ACT 2
Scene 8 - Day 3
Fulton had moved Preston and Horace in the clinic, to keep an eye on them
while he investigated the causes of the poisoning. The queue outside the
clinic was getting longer by the minute: more and more people were
complaining of stomach pains.
"I brought more sheets," said Matthew, rushing into the ambulatory with a
bundle in his arms.
"Thank you, Matthew, bring them upstairs, please," Fulton said. His shirt
sleeves rollied up, he was brewing some potions on the stove. He turned
to Brian, waving a little box. "You said these are the herbs your Ma uses
for stomach conditions, right?"
"Yes, doctor," Brian answered. Together with Sarah Sheehan, he was
setting up more cots behind a screen. "If you need some more, I can go
look for 'em. I know which ones to get."
"Thanks, Brian, but right now I want to see if these sort some effects."
He drew his arm over his brow. Someone knocked briskly at the door. He
trudged to open. "Please, just one moment -" he began.
It was Grace, standing on the porch with one of her babies in her arms -
little Olivia, judging by the pink slippers. Fulton noticed Robert E in
the middle of the road, trying to soothe the other twin's squalling.
"What's this story 'bout food poisonin'?" she demanded. "My Caf頡lways
uses the best ingredients!"
"Er, ma'am," Fulton began awkwardly, "Hank tells me Loren received a
supply of canned meat from Denver... couldn't it be that..."
"Young man, I'll let you now that I *never* use canned meat for my
recipes."
They looked in frustration at the row of sick people crowding the
clinic's porch, under Hank's watchful stare. Loren was among them,
sitting dejectedly on the bench. When he noticed their stares, he
attempted a crusty quip, then he just grabbed his stomach and groaned.
"That's strange, anyway..." Hank wondered. Reluctantly, he admitted: "I
ate at the Caf頡n' I feel good."
Fulton nodded. "And Preston didn't eat at the Caf鬠and he's pretty bad."
He sighed. "What would Dr. Quinn do in this situation?"
Hank grinned. "Who can say?"
"All right." The doctor hit his fist in the palm of his hand. "Let's wire
her. It could be that she has finished at East Fork, and she could come
back to help us. Only thing... the telegraph operator is in there... and
I'm not sure if I..."
"I can do it," Hank offered. At Fulton's astonished stare, he added: "I
once learned to use the telegraph. I ain't too fast, but can write down
the messages an' then decode 'em with the manual."
"That's great! How did you learn it?"
Hank dismissed it with a shrug. "It's a long story." But there was a fond
smile on his lips as he turned and started walking towards the Post
Office.
Scene 9 - Day 3
"The infection is receding!" cried Michaela happily. "I think I managed
to save your leg."
The wounded Cheyenne brave looked at her, with a smile made thin by
suffering. He cautiously flexed his leg and was relieved by the absence
of pain.
Sully smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. McKay nodded with
satisfaction, standing with arms folded and shoulder hunched in the
cramped quarters of the makeshift teepee. "I'll have him transferred back
to the jail."
"I don't think so, Sergeant," said Michaela, firmly. "Let him rest one
more day."
"Dr. Quinn!" someone called from outside. The young corporal peeked in
from the entrance. "Wire for you, from Colorado Springs."
Michaela jumped up, upset. Thoughts of her family crossed her mind. She
grabbed the wire and was slightly relieved, but it was obvious from her
pinched face that the situation was very difficult anyway.
"There has been a wave of food poisoning..." She looked at the men. "I
must go back."
"Michaela..." Sully took her gently by the arm and made her turn
slightly, until she was staring down into her eyes. "Cloud Dancing will
accompany you - but I'd rather stay here."
"Why, Sully?..."
"'Cause I wanna get to the bottom of this. I don't wanna let that Agent
spread lies. I gotta know the truth 'bout what started the revolt."
Michaela searched his gaze, in silence.
"Been thinkin' 'bout last night's talk," McKay told Sully, "that trader
an' all. We can search in that direction. But I need to talk to the
Cheyenne," - he turned to Michaela - "an' I need someone they trust. They
won't talk to *me*."
Sully looked at him. "We could work together."
"Cloud Dancing can help you, Sergeant," Michaela said sharply, "and Sully
will come back with me to Colorado Springs..."
"Michaela - I'd really rather stay."
They looked at each other. Michaela drew him out of the teepee.
It was warm outside, the sun was shining almost overhead. She walked a
little away from the guards on the entrance, then turned to face him.
"Sully - talk to me."
"I need to help them, Michaela," Sully said, lowly, urgently. "They did
so much for me. I have to be by their side... I need to be there for
them. To watch over them in their darkest hour, like they did with me.
But you already know this. There's more..."
"You want to prove this can be different than Palmer Creek?"
"Maybe."
"So it gets down to a question of trust."
Sully said nothing, but his gaze was eloquent. Michaela looked at him as
though she wanted to see his soul.
"I trust you, Sully," she said at last, softly.
Sully smiled. He touched her cheek with the utmost tenderness.
"But please..." Michaela added. "Please, be careful."
"You too. Take care of the kids."
"I will."
"I'll go call Cloud Dancing."
His fingers lingered on her cheek. Then he turned, and started off
towards the shacks.
Michaela went back inside for her bag, brushing aside McKay at the
entrance. As she came out, he made a small gesture without touching her,
stopping her for a moment.
"Look, ma'am..." he said under his breath. "I know you're worried 'bout
him. I'll keep an eye on him, I promise. We both want to prevent the
situation from worsenin'. We'll get along."
Michaela was touched. "Thank you, Sergeant."
Sully was coming back with Cloud Dancing, who held Flash, already
saddled, and his own horse. Michaela embraced her husband tight, then
mounted. She looked down at him once again.
Sully gazed at her. "I'll see you soon," he said, unconsciously.
Michaela flinched. Memories were eerie and almost overwhelming. But he
was looking at her reassuringly, and the sight of McKay, standing beside
him with his arms folded, was sort of comforting. However, Michaela's
worries were written all over her face. She rode off with Cloud Dancing,
followed by Sully's wistful gaze.
Scene 10 - Day 3
Just outside East Fork, Cloud Dancing slowed his horse down, looking
keenly at the ground.
"What is it?" Michaela asked.
He stopped his horse "Somebody made camp here." He dismounted and started
peering at every leaf and stone.
"The soldiers?" she said.
Cloud Dancing squatted down beside a burned patch and picked up a bean
can. "I do not think so. Maybe - that trader." He got up and walked about
a little, head bent. "There is a very clear trail leading away from here.
About four days old."
"Can you follow it?" Michaela asked instinctively.
"Yes."
"Wait - You're only allowed to move between East Fork, Colorado Springs
and the Tongue River Valley."
"I believe he is lurking in the vicinity of the reservation. His kind is
never too far from his victims. Like a vulture watching his prey." Cloud
Dancing shook his head. "That is not the problem. I have to escort you to
Colorado Springs."
"I'll manage," Michaela said firmly.
"It is a long way."
"But you could help Sully, if you find the trader and see what he's
about. Please, Cloud Dancing." She smiled encouragingly. "I'll see that
Dorothy is all right."
Cloud Dancing's expression softened. "Thanks. Be careful."
"I will. You too."
Michaela turned Flash and disappeared among the trees at a gallop. Cloud
Dancing sighed, then took his horse by the reins and kept following the
trail.
Scene 11 - Day 3
"I demand that you give me back my clothes," Preston said. He was lying
in one of the room upstairs in the clinic. Anna Marie Sheehan had just
finished giving him some herbal brew. She threw a long-suffering glance
at Michaela, patted her arm and left.
"Dr. Mike, thank goodness you're here!" exclaimed Loren from the other
bed. "Preston's been doin' nothin' but complainin'!"
"And you haven't?" Preston countered.
Michaela gave both of them a baleful look. She went to check Loren, who
looked a bit pale. "You can't go yet, Preston. You're still weak. Not
until I understand what's causing the poisoning. Then I'll be able to
move you to the Chateau under Dr. Fulton's supervision."
"They've been feeding me Cheyenne gruel for two days. *That* is poisoning
me."
Loren looked at him with wicked satisfaction. Preston glared back.
"The worst seems to be over, Loren," Michaela said, relieved. "How do you
feel?"
Loren beamed at her. Then he threw a suspicious glance at Preston, but
the banker had rolled over haughtily.
"Still hurts," Loren whispered, looking unhappily at Michaela. "But that
ain't nothin' compared to this mornin'."
"That's good, Loren. Now I really need you to help me. Is there something
that has sold well lately? Something that a lot of people bought?"
"The canned meat..."
"Apart from the canned meat. Grace didn't buy it, and yet she's had many
cases of poisoning at the Caf鮢
"Dear girl, my memory is not so good as it was! Let's see. The candy."
"No. Grace doesn't sell candy."
"All of the fruits an' vegetables, but how could they get bad? People
wouldn't buy 'em, in that case."
"Yes... It must be something else."
Loren was losing his patience. "I dunno! Sugar, salt, flour, milk -
there's a lotta things all folks buy in my store."
"All right, Loren. Don't get distressed. Just think about it... and if
you remember something, let me know."
"I will, Dr. Mike," Loren sighed.
END OF ACT 2
