demanded.
"No, sir." Caught out, Parker suppressed a smile.
"Then what's so damned funny, soldier?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Actually, sir," Nash answered, "we were just being grateful that this wasn't an autopsy."
"Oh? How's that?"
"Some of them get pretty rank, especially in the summer, sir. It's hard to follow a lecture when your stomach's in your throat."
"Think I talk too much, eh? Well, let me tell you, soldier, a man can't learn too much in this business. We've got too many people depending on us to keep 'em going."
As they fell silent, he finished with the leg. "Nash, give him a whiff of the ammonia, will you? Then fan him as he comes around. Walsh, I want a half grain of morphine in four drops of water drawn into the syringe."
The ammonia burned Hap's nose, making him cough. "That's enough," Sprenger ordered. Leaning over his patient, he said loudly, "Well, it's done, Hap, and if the infection goes down, you're going to be damned lucky, you know that?"
Walker's eyes fluttered but did not open. "My leg—?" he whispered hoarsely.
"You've still got it, but the next time you decide to carry pieces of lead in the bone, don't come to me. And for God's sake, stay off it awhile and give it time to heal, you hear?"
Hap's mouth was so dry he could scarcely form words. "What—?"
"A deep abscess. You nearly bought your ticket to the great beyond with a damned abscess." Straightening up, Sprenger took the syringe from Nash. "I'm going to make you real happy here, Hap," he murmured. "In a minute you won't give a damn about anything." As he spoke, he slide the needle under the skin and squeezed the morphine in. "They say a man can dream in color with this," he murmured, withdrawing the needle.
"You want me to clean up for you, Doc?" Parker asked.
"Yeah. You'd better boil those ten minutes instead of five." Looking at the others, he ordered, "Get him to bed, boys, and cut the rest of those pants off. It's time he bought himself another pair, anyway."
"Yes, sir. What do you want to put him in? A hospital shirt?" Nash asked.
"You'll have to. We'll draw off any pus that forms with the trocar tonight and again in the morning. Maybe if we keep that abscess empty, it'll try to heal. Otherwise, there's not a chance of saving the leg. Fever's a good thing—up to a point. If it goes over a hundred, give him three grains of quinine. You can repeat that in four to five hours." The surgeon paused, mentally reviewing his orders, then nodded. "Well, that's about all I can think of right now. I'm going to wash up, then I'll be seeing how Mrs. Sprenger's managing with the job I gave her. I ought to be back in a hour or so."
But after he'd washed and changed into one of the clean shirts Cora kept in his surgery for him, he had to take one last look at Hap Walker. The man was lying with his leg propped on a rolled blanket, and he was asleep. It'd be touch and go, but if the blood wasn't actually infected, and if that abscess cleared up, Hap just might walk out of Fort Sill on both feet. He turned to leave, thinking he'd compliment the boys for elevating the leg— they'd done it without being reminded.
"It wasn't the great beyond, Doc," Walker whispered behind him. "I was going to hell."
"How do you know? You never got there," Sprenger countered without turning around. "Don't move it off that roll, whatever you do, and I'll be back after a while. I've got to take a look at the woman you brought in."
"Her name's Bryce—she's from Texas."
"If you can remember that, you were in better shape than I thought."
"No. I just heard her say it before I passed out."
Sprenger was almost out the door before Hap spoke again, and his voice was so low the surgeon wasn't sure he heard the words right.
"I tried to go after her, but I was too late—too damned late."
CHAPTER 5
Still dressed in the blue cotton dress Cora Sprenger had provided her, Annie sat in the slat-back chair, rocking absently. She hadn't taken the laudanum—she didn't want
"No, sir." Caught out, Parker suppressed a smile.
"Then what's so damned funny, soldier?"
"Nothing, sir."
"Actually, sir," Nash answered, "we were just being grateful that this wasn't an autopsy."
"Oh? How's that?"
"Some of them get pretty rank, especially in the summer, sir. It's hard to follow a lecture when your stomach's in your throat."
"Think I talk too much, eh? Well, let me tell you, soldier, a man can't learn too much in this business. We've got too many people depending on us to keep 'em going."
As they fell silent, he finished with the leg. "Nash, give him a whiff of the ammonia, will you? Then fan him as he comes around. Walsh, I want a half grain of morphine in four drops of water drawn into the syringe."
The ammonia burned Hap's nose, making him cough. "That's enough," Sprenger ordered. Leaning over his patient, he said loudly, "Well, it's done, Hap, and if the infection goes down, you're going to be damned lucky, you know that?"
Walker's eyes fluttered but did not open. "My leg—?" he whispered hoarsely.
"You've still got it, but the next time you decide to carry pieces of lead in the bone, don't come to me. And for God's sake, stay off it awhile and give it time to heal, you hear?"
Hap's mouth was so dry he could scarcely form words. "What—?"
"A deep abscess. You nearly bought your ticket to the great beyond with a damned abscess." Straightening up, Sprenger took the syringe from Nash. "I'm going to make you real happy here, Hap," he murmured. "In a minute you won't give a damn about anything." As he spoke, he slide the needle under the skin and squeezed the morphine in. "They say a man can dream in color with this," he murmured, withdrawing the needle.
"You want me to clean up for you, Doc?" Parker asked.
"Yeah. You'd better boil those ten minutes instead of five." Looking at the others, he ordered, "Get him to bed, boys, and cut the rest of those pants off. It's time he bought himself another pair, anyway."
"Yes, sir. What do you want to put him in? A hospital shirt?" Nash asked.
"You'll have to. We'll draw off any pus that forms with the trocar tonight and again in the morning. Maybe if we keep that abscess empty, it'll try to heal. Otherwise, there's not a chance of saving the leg. Fever's a good thing—up to a point. If it goes over a hundred, give him three grains of quinine. You can repeat that in four to five hours." The surgeon paused, mentally reviewing his orders, then nodded. "Well, that's about all I can think of right now. I'm going to wash up, then I'll be seeing how Mrs. Sprenger's managing with the job I gave her. I ought to be back in a hour or so."
But after he'd washed and changed into one of the clean shirts Cora kept in his surgery for him, he had to take one last look at Hap Walker. The man was lying with his leg propped on a rolled blanket, and he was asleep. It'd be touch and go, but if the blood wasn't actually infected, and if that abscess cleared up, Hap just might walk out of Fort Sill on both feet. He turned to leave, thinking he'd compliment the boys for elevating the leg— they'd done it without being reminded.
"It wasn't the great beyond, Doc," Walker whispered behind him. "I was going to hell."
"How do you know? You never got there," Sprenger countered without turning around. "Don't move it off that roll, whatever you do, and I'll be back after a while. I've got to take a look at the woman you brought in."
"Her name's Bryce—she's from Texas."
"If you can remember that, you were in better shape than I thought."
"No. I just heard her say it before I passed out."
Sprenger was almost out the door before Hap spoke again, and his voice was so low the surgeon wasn't sure he heard the words right.
"I tried to go after her, but I was too late—too damned late."
CHAPTER 5
Still dressed in the blue cotton dress Cora Sprenger had provided her, Annie sat in the slat-back chair, rocking absently. She hadn't taken the laudanum—she didn't want
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