me what you need me to do."
"The dining room table will do nicely as an operating table," he said. "But it'll be dark soon. We're going to need light, and lots of it."
"Mark," she said, squeezing her other brother's hand, "round up every lantern you can find and bring them into--"
" On my way," the boy said before she could finish.
The doctor took off his suit coat and draped it over a dining room chair. "I'll need bandages, and some hickory shakes will do for splints...."
She lifted her skirt and started up the steps. "I've got a bureau drawer full of clean old sheets. I'll rip them into strips."
Doc looked at Matthew, pale and still, then turned his dark gaze to Micah's worried face. He led the father several yards away from the boy, who still lay limp and weak on the litter. "He's lost a lot of blood," he said, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. "And there's a good chance infection has set in. I won't know what more I might find until I cut away the damaged tissue."
Micah's somber face paled. He ran both hands through his thinning, gray hair. "Will he...." He cleared his throat. "Will he lose the leg?"
"I can't say one way or the other."
Micah glanced at his son. "He looks so young and helpless, lying there," he whispered, more to himself than to the doctor. "He will walk again, won't he?"
"God willing."
Micah shook his head. "Is there anything I can do, Doc?"
"Pray," he said. "Pray good and hard."
***
The makeshift operating room glowed bright with lamplight. Once she'd shoved all the chairs against the walls and drew the curtains, Bess covered the table with several thick, soft quilts, then draped line-dried sheets over them. After dipping Doc's surgical tools into boiling water, she placed each in order by size on the sheet-covered serving cart, which she'd rolled up beside the table.
She'd watched Mary assist once in delivering a baby when Doc performed a new technique known as a Cesarean Section. He'd used dozens of rags to blot up the blood; she presumed he'd need at least that many, now. The old linen napkins in the buffet would do nicely, she decided, stacking the neatly-folded squares near Doc's scalpels and clamps. Finally, a mountain of clean, white bandages, made by tearing bedsheets in to strips, lay at the foot of the table.
Doc instructed Jake and Micah to position Matt on the table. They did, then stepped helplessly back into the shadows. Mark, still wringing his hands, stood between them.
"Get on out of here, the three of you," Doc growled. "Your sour faces are makin' me nervous." Pointing toward the door, he added, more gently, "We'll let you know when it's over."
They seemed almost too eager to obey. The men and the boy immediately set to pacing back and forth across the front porch. Bess hoped they wouldn't keep it up for very long, because if the constant thud thud thud of boot heels striking wood distracted Doc like it distracted her....
She stormed to the front door and flung it open. "You boys take that pacing to the corral before you get Doc's hands to shakin' and he cuts something he didn't intend to!"
They were off the porch before the door closed behind her.
"This could get messy, Bess," Doc said when she returned. "You might want to protect your pretty frock."
She tucked in one corner of her mouth. "Since when have you known me to be afraid of a little mess?"
Smiling, the white-haired gent loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and instructed Bess to copy his method of scrubbing up. Seeing this, Matt suspected what would happen next, and began to cry softly. Holding her now-sterile hands aloft, Bess leaned over and kissed his forehead. "It's going to be fine, Matthew," she whispered. "It'll be over before you know it."
"Promise?"
Winking, she forced a cheery, confident smile onto her face. "Promise," she said, kissing him again.
Doc dampened a cloth with a few drops of ether and draped it over Matt's nose and mouth. "Take a deep breath, Matthew," he said. "Start
"The dining room table will do nicely as an operating table," he said. "But it'll be dark soon. We're going to need light, and lots of it."
"Mark," she said, squeezing her other brother's hand, "round up every lantern you can find and bring them into--"
" On my way," the boy said before she could finish.
The doctor took off his suit coat and draped it over a dining room chair. "I'll need bandages, and some hickory shakes will do for splints...."
She lifted her skirt and started up the steps. "I've got a bureau drawer full of clean old sheets. I'll rip them into strips."
Doc looked at Matthew, pale and still, then turned his dark gaze to Micah's worried face. He led the father several yards away from the boy, who still lay limp and weak on the litter. "He's lost a lot of blood," he said, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt. "And there's a good chance infection has set in. I won't know what more I might find until I cut away the damaged tissue."
Micah's somber face paled. He ran both hands through his thinning, gray hair. "Will he...." He cleared his throat. "Will he lose the leg?"
"I can't say one way or the other."
Micah glanced at his son. "He looks so young and helpless, lying there," he whispered, more to himself than to the doctor. "He will walk again, won't he?"
"God willing."
Micah shook his head. "Is there anything I can do, Doc?"
"Pray," he said. "Pray good and hard."
***
The makeshift operating room glowed bright with lamplight. Once she'd shoved all the chairs against the walls and drew the curtains, Bess covered the table with several thick, soft quilts, then draped line-dried sheets over them. After dipping Doc's surgical tools into boiling water, she placed each in order by size on the sheet-covered serving cart, which she'd rolled up beside the table.
She'd watched Mary assist once in delivering a baby when Doc performed a new technique known as a Cesarean Section. He'd used dozens of rags to blot up the blood; she presumed he'd need at least that many, now. The old linen napkins in the buffet would do nicely, she decided, stacking the neatly-folded squares near Doc's scalpels and clamps. Finally, a mountain of clean, white bandages, made by tearing bedsheets in to strips, lay at the foot of the table.
Doc instructed Jake and Micah to position Matt on the table. They did, then stepped helplessly back into the shadows. Mark, still wringing his hands, stood between them.
"Get on out of here, the three of you," Doc growled. "Your sour faces are makin' me nervous." Pointing toward the door, he added, more gently, "We'll let you know when it's over."
They seemed almost too eager to obey. The men and the boy immediately set to pacing back and forth across the front porch. Bess hoped they wouldn't keep it up for very long, because if the constant thud thud thud of boot heels striking wood distracted Doc like it distracted her....
She stormed to the front door and flung it open. "You boys take that pacing to the corral before you get Doc's hands to shakin' and he cuts something he didn't intend to!"
They were off the porch before the door closed behind her.
"This could get messy, Bess," Doc said when she returned. "You might want to protect your pretty frock."
She tucked in one corner of her mouth. "Since when have you known me to be afraid of a little mess?"
Smiling, the white-haired gent loosened his tie, rolled up his sleeves, and instructed Bess to copy his method of scrubbing up. Seeing this, Matt suspected what would happen next, and began to cry softly. Holding her now-sterile hands aloft, Bess leaned over and kissed his forehead. "It's going to be fine, Matthew," she whispered. "It'll be over before you know it."
"Promise?"
Winking, she forced a cheery, confident smile onto her face. "Promise," she said, kissing him again.
Doc dampened a cloth with a few drops of ether and draped it over Matt's nose and mouth. "Take a deep breath, Matthew," he said. "Start
Similar Books
