After putting the man down, she threw herself into me and hugged me tightly. “Oh Miss, ye were safe at the mission. Why did ye come here?” Her red eyebrows were pinched together so tightly, I worried it would cause a headache; which truthfully should be the least worrisome thing in such a situation.
My breathing remained heavy and I shook my head at her words. “A mob of planters came to the mission looking for a fight. We had to get all the women and children out. Once they were safe, Mr. Ashby and I left to find you.” I touched her familiar, freckled face. “I’m so glad you’re alive!” I threw my arms around her again.
We didn’t have time to cry. The wounded needed help. I didn’t know much about healing but was instructed by Lottie to cut bandages and clean wounds. Arthur helped, too, while keeping an eye on the battles around us. People ran by us, pirates and workers yelling and clashing. I must have seen five or six men killed just by glancing up between tasks.
The terror seemed never-ending. I tried to calm my mind enough to think straight, but it seemed surreal. What would we do? Was this a losing battle? It didn’t warrant thinking about; all we could do was survive and help the next person.
Once the wounded were stable, we began finding others to help. Mr. Ashby handed me the empty rifle, confiscating my broomstick. “This will hit harder,” he said. I gripped the rifle firmly. The weight of it made me feel more secure.
As I ran alongside Patrice, we came across a pirate beating a helpless elderly man. I let out a battle cry and swung my rifle at the pirate, who turned just in time to take a blow to the face. He clapped a hand over the place of impact and fell on his backside. Patrice helped the elderly man stand.
“Take him back. We’ve got this,” I called to her. My voice was that of a stranger, sure and strong. I certainly didn’t feel that way. Mr. Ashby stood beside me, our weapons at the ready.
The man I’d hit growled obscenities, holding onto his face. When he let his hands fall, I saw blood spewing from his nose. It was an awful sight. Then his eyes glazed over and he collapsed into a heap at my feet.
“Nicely done,” Mr. Ashby said to me.
“I don’t know my own strength.” The rifle was much harder than I thought. A worthy weapon, indeed.
“Elsie!” I heard a familiar voice cry from somewhere in the distance. I looked around to see Graham sprinting toward us. Then I noticed apirate with a gun pointed directly at me, closer than Graham was. I barely processed what that meant before Mr. Ashby pushed me to the side.
But the shot had already fired and I felt a blinding pain in my abdomen. It was too sudden for me to even scream. On the ground, I blearily looked into Mr. Ashby’s face. It seemed out of focus. He was holding on to me, pressing a hand into the wound. I wanted to tell him to stop, that it hurt too much, but I couldn’t form words through the white-hot agony. His eyes were wide and filled with terror; I had never seen him look so completely uncertain before, as if his mind had gone blank from fear. That didn’t bode well. IfArthur Ashbyseemed uncertain about something…
Graham was above me, his face blanched. He nearly pushed Mr. Ashby aside. “Elsie, no. Don’t close your eyes. Elsie!” he yelled, shaking me.Stop,I wanted to say.I just want to sleep. I felt my eyes close.
I heard fabric ripping, and then Mr. Ashby pressed on my wound again, causing my body to spasm from the pain. I moaned and opened my eyes again to look at him. He seemed to have returned to his usual confident self. He was looking at my gunshot wound, though, instead of my face. “It’s not as deep as I thought. I think we can get the bullet out,” he said to Graham. He sounded slightly less panicked. I counted that as a good sign. Perhaps I wouldn’t die.
Chapter 30
Theycarriedmetothe medical station, each step making me want to scream. When we arrived, Patrice joined my two gallant heroes in worrying. Mr. Ashby left my field of vision, then came back with Mr. Ward, who inspected my wound.
“You’re right, the bullet isn’t too deeply embedded. We need to get it out to prevent sepsis.” He looked around him for a moment, then held a stick out to me. “Bite down on this,” he said. I took it between my teeth and prepared myself.
“Patrice, get the antiseptic and bandages. Slate, get my instruments. Ashby, get water.” Everyone took their orders seriously. Patrice returned first, then Graham. Mr. Ward touched my shoulder and had me look directly into his eyes. “This is going to hurt,” he said. I couldn’t do anything but nod.
The antiseptic burned, but that was not the worst part. For when Mr. Ward used his instrument to dig out the bullet, white light flashed in my vision and a scream escaped my throat as I bit down on the stick. This was what I imagined being eaten alive by a wolf would feel like. I felt hands grabbing both of mine and I squeezed them as tightly as possible.
“Almost done,” Mr. Ward encouraged. “Hang in there a little longer.” A few more seconds of searing pain, and then he lifted out a metal ball about the size of a marble. Such a small, hateful thing. Irelaxed every part of my body, the stick falling from my mouth, and breathed heavily.
“Thank you,” I said faintly.
“Patrice, finish it up.” Mr. Ward left without ceremony.
I lay there gulping mouthfuls of air as if I’d been drowning. Patrice, who had been holding my hand, let go and began wrapping me in bandages. She didn’t speak, but I could tell from the set of her mouth that she wanted to cry. Her hands were deft, just like they were when she set my hair or helped me dress. Capable, dependable Patrice. I was so grateful to her. As she worked, I felt someone else take my hand.
I turned to see Mr. Ashby kneeling beside me. He tried to smile, but it looked as ifhewere in pain. If a look could heal, his compassion would surely do the trick.
“How are ye feeling?” I heard Graham’s voice from my other side. My head turned to see him. I nodded weakly. His hand squeezed mine.
“Keep an eye on her,” Patrice said to the men. They both nodded. “Mr. Ward and Lottie can use all the hands they can get. Forgive me?” I nodded, and she left to be the Patrice I knew.
My eyes took in the men on either side of me. Would they both keep vigil at my side? It seemed unnecessary. I almost said so, but I squeaked out something like “Ow.”
They both leaned over, as if they could help. Such an overreaction made me want to laugh. I hissed at the slight movement of my belly as the laugh began. It stopped immediately. “Stop fretting over me,” I finally said.
Graham placed a hand to my hair, shushing me. “Dinnae speak, Elsie.” His familiar deep concern made me pause, and I found myself wanting to smile at him.
“I won’t go anywhere.” Mr. Ashby pulled my hand to his cheek. I looked at Mr. Ashby then, his tender touch sending warmth straight to my heart.
