counting, backwards, from one hundred."
"One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight...."
Doc capped the small brown bottle and placed it on the table near Matt's head. "Every few minutes, put another drop on the cloth," he instructed Bess. "Not too much now, or he'll never regain consciousness."
Bess licked her lips and nodded. Too little, and her brother would feel intense pain. Too much and—
"...ninety-four, ninety-three...." Matt's voice, slow and weak, waned. "Ninety-two, ninety-one...." By the time he got to ninety, he was sound asleep.
While she'd been comforting her brother, the doctor had fastened a tourniquet around the boy's thigh. "Doc...is that rawhide?"
"It is indeed," he said, pulling the last knot tight.
"But it's wet...."
He peered over his half glasses and frowned. "Yes?"
"When it dries, it'll be tighter still. Won't that hurt him even more?"
Straightening, the old man pursed his lips. "Yes. Yes, it could indeed." Shaking his head, he added, "But that's all I have to tie the —“
Bess lifted the hem of her skirt and began tearing the lacy ruffle from her petticoat.
"Surely we can find something else...."
She branded him with a hard look. "Why should we waste time looking for something else when we have this, right at hand?"
Doc replaced the leather with cotton, then picked up a scalpel and said to his sleeping patient, "May God be with you," and made the first incision.
***
Three and a half hours later, Matt woke up in his own bed. He looked around woozily, blinked, and groaned. "Bess...?"
"I'm here, Matthew," she said, stroking his cheek. " Right here."
The boy winced. "It hurts, Bess."
"I'm sure it does." She reached for the bottle of tonic Doc had left on the bedside table, then guided a spoonful of the dark syrupy liquid between Matt's lips. "This will help some," she said, using her thumb to wipe away the drop that had escaped the corner of his mouth. "Go back to sleep now, and you won't notice the pain so much."
He lifted his head and looked toward the foot of his bed. "Am I gonna be all right?"
Her heart lurched in her chest. Doc had explained every possibility. Matt's youth, the old man had said, was on his side. In all likelihood, the boy would recover. But...Matt could walk with a limp for the rest of his life, and infection, if indeed it had set in during the long ride home, gangrene could set in and—
Bess refused to think about that horrible possibility. "You're going to be fine, just fine , you hear me!"
He lay back, soothed by her pledge, and closed his eyes.
There was so much to do, and now that he seemed to be resting peacefully, she got up to do it.
The instant she stood, Matt's eyes flew open. "Don't go, Bess," he pleaded, reaching for her hand.
She sat beside him on the bed and gently stroked his bandaged arm. " All right, sweet Matthew, I'll stay."
"Thanks, Bess," he murmured.
"I love you, Matthew," she answered.
He closed his eyes, and in moments, slept.
She didn't seem to notice the bloodstains on her favorite blue dress. Didn't seem to notice, either, that much of her dark hair had escaped the lovely braid she'd plaited that morning. Didn't seem to notice that her cheeks were streaked with sweat...and her brother's blood.
But Jake noticed.
Only when she was sure that Matt slept soundly did she leave his side, and only then, to clean up the dining room. "Can't have Pa coming in here and seeing all this," she muttered, piling the blood-stained sheets and napkins and used bandages onto the serving cart. "It'll upset him no end." She seemed unaware that she was chattering like a chipmunk. "I'll just put these in a tub on the mud porch to soak," she added, scrubbing blood from the table top with one of the clean rags. "Tomorrow, once Matt's had a good night's sleep, I'll wash 'em up good and proper, and hang them on the line to dry. The sun will bleach some of the stains out," she said, on her hands and knees now, wiping up the blood that had dripped from the
"One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight...."
Doc capped the small brown bottle and placed it on the table near Matt's head. "Every few minutes, put another drop on the cloth," he instructed Bess. "Not too much now, or he'll never regain consciousness."
Bess licked her lips and nodded. Too little, and her brother would feel intense pain. Too much and—
"...ninety-four, ninety-three...." Matt's voice, slow and weak, waned. "Ninety-two, ninety-one...." By the time he got to ninety, he was sound asleep.
While she'd been comforting her brother, the doctor had fastened a tourniquet around the boy's thigh. "Doc...is that rawhide?"
"It is indeed," he said, pulling the last knot tight.
"But it's wet...."
He peered over his half glasses and frowned. "Yes?"
"When it dries, it'll be tighter still. Won't that hurt him even more?"
Straightening, the old man pursed his lips. "Yes. Yes, it could indeed." Shaking his head, he added, "But that's all I have to tie the —“
Bess lifted the hem of her skirt and began tearing the lacy ruffle from her petticoat.
"Surely we can find something else...."
She branded him with a hard look. "Why should we waste time looking for something else when we have this, right at hand?"
Doc replaced the leather with cotton, then picked up a scalpel and said to his sleeping patient, "May God be with you," and made the first incision.
***
Three and a half hours later, Matt woke up in his own bed. He looked around woozily, blinked, and groaned. "Bess...?"
"I'm here, Matthew," she said, stroking his cheek. " Right here."
The boy winced. "It hurts, Bess."
"I'm sure it does." She reached for the bottle of tonic Doc had left on the bedside table, then guided a spoonful of the dark syrupy liquid between Matt's lips. "This will help some," she said, using her thumb to wipe away the drop that had escaped the corner of his mouth. "Go back to sleep now, and you won't notice the pain so much."
He lifted his head and looked toward the foot of his bed. "Am I gonna be all right?"
Her heart lurched in her chest. Doc had explained every possibility. Matt's youth, the old man had said, was on his side. In all likelihood, the boy would recover. But...Matt could walk with a limp for the rest of his life, and infection, if indeed it had set in during the long ride home, gangrene could set in and—
Bess refused to think about that horrible possibility. "You're going to be fine, just fine , you hear me!"
He lay back, soothed by her pledge, and closed his eyes.
There was so much to do, and now that he seemed to be resting peacefully, she got up to do it.
The instant she stood, Matt's eyes flew open. "Don't go, Bess," he pleaded, reaching for her hand.
She sat beside him on the bed and gently stroked his bandaged arm. " All right, sweet Matthew, I'll stay."
"Thanks, Bess," he murmured.
"I love you, Matthew," she answered.
He closed his eyes, and in moments, slept.
She didn't seem to notice the bloodstains on her favorite blue dress. Didn't seem to notice, either, that much of her dark hair had escaped the lovely braid she'd plaited that morning. Didn't seem to notice that her cheeks were streaked with sweat...and her brother's blood.
But Jake noticed.
Only when she was sure that Matt slept soundly did she leave his side, and only then, to clean up the dining room. "Can't have Pa coming in here and seeing all this," she muttered, piling the blood-stained sheets and napkins and used bandages onto the serving cart. "It'll upset him no end." She seemed unaware that she was chattering like a chipmunk. "I'll just put these in a tub on the mud porch to soak," she added, scrubbing blood from the table top with one of the clean rags. "Tomorrow, once Matt's had a good night's sleep, I'll wash 'em up good and proper, and hang them on the line to dry. The sun will bleach some of the stains out," she said, on her hands and knees now, wiping up the blood that had dripped from the
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