Page 36 of Cloaked in Beauty

He jerked his face up and cupped his hands around his mouth. “He’s alive!”

Two faces peered at him from the rock ledge above. One small and nondescript from this distance, the other attached to a long braid of auburn hair that glowed in the late-afternoon sunlight as it dangled over the lip of the ravine. A pointy canine face poked into the picture as well. The only thing missing was a pair of horse noses.

Philip shook his head. He wanted to scowl and shoo them all away from the edge, but over the past few days, Letty had proven to be a nurturing sort. Affectionate with the animals. Even fussed over him, pestering him about sleeping and eating enough. She’d do nothing to endanger Calvin. Lying on their bellies to watch was likely safer than standing up and peering into the ravine. And while he didn’t particularly want to have an audience for what was sure to be an agonizing series of events, he understood the need a brother had to watch over his own.

Turning back to Dennis, he examined the boy as gently as he could, checking for other broken bones and for bleeding. His right arm was definitely busted, but the bone hadn’t pierced the skin, thank God. Dennis moaned when Philip pressed lightly against the bottom of his chest. Probably had a few cracked ribs. The kid’s belly was soft to the touch, though, instilling hope that there wasn’t bleeding inside. Scrapes lined his face and hands, but Philip couldn’t find any serious wounds. Maybe he had a chance, after all. If Philip could get him back up the ravine without doing any additional damage.

A daunting prospect seeing as how he’d never set a broken arm before. He’d had one set, though, about ten years ago, after he’d busted his when Dalton Jones dared him to ride his pa’s unbroken mustang. He’d held on longer than any of the other boys who’d been foolish enough to take Dalton up on his challenge, but he’d flown higher than they had, too. And landed harder. Mama had not been impressed when he’d limped home with his arm cradled against his belly. He’d never received such a tongue lashing. Didn’t help that she was crying through most of it, making him feel even worse for causing her such distress. The doctor had set his arm with slow, steady pulling and pushing until his bones lined up properly.

Philip would have to do the same for Dennis. The kid’s arm had to be straight for him to splint it, and it needed to be splinted to keep it from further injury as they made their ascent out of the ravine.

Probably a good thing the kid was unconscious. This was gonna hurt like the dickens.

Philip moved into position and set his jaw as he gently probed to determine where the edges of the break were. Taking hold above the boy’s wrist, he paused to steady his own nerves.

Guide my hands, Lord, and place the bones where they need to go.

He swallowed, trying not to lose a grip on his confidence. If God could use a shepherd boy with no military experience to slay a giant, maybe he could use a Pinkerton agent with no medical experience to set an arm. He inhaled deeply, then held his breath as he began to tug.

Don’t let me make things worse.

Philip worked as carefully as he could, the boy’s insensible whimpers tearing at his heart. The arm began to find a more natural position, but the last bit of maneuvering was going to be the worst. Bracing his foot against the boy’s upper arm, he tugged and twisted with greater force. Dennis screamed and tried to sit up, but Philip slid his leg over the top of the boy’s chest and held him down until the bone edges finally found their fit. He immediately laid the arm down and scooted his leg off the writhing boy.

“Easy, Dennis. You have a broken arm. I was setting it.” Philip placed his palms on the boy’s shoulders, gently holding him in place. “My name’s Philip Carmichael. Your brother, Calvin, sent me down to help you. You fell into the ravine. Do you remember?”

“Dennis!” Calvin’s panicked, high-pitched voice echoed from above.

The boy stilled and opened his eyes. Pain clouded his gaze, but he managed to focus on Philip’s face. “Calvin. Is he . . . ?”

Philip smiled. “He’s fine. I think the little scrapper was trying to climb down into the ravine to rescue you, but he had the good sense to stop and call for help.”

At least that’s what he assumed Calvin had been doing.

“We found him and pulled him up. He’s safe.”

Dennis’s eyes slid closed. “That’s good.”

“Dennis?” A second cry came from above. A sob caused Calvin’s voice to crack.

Philip eased away from Dennis, his hold no longer required. He sat back on his heels and turned toward the overhang. “He’s going to be all right,” he shouted. “Just had to set his arm.”

All distance separating Letty and Calvin had vanished. How easily he could imagine her wrapping an arm around the boy and petting his back like she did Rusty. She wasn’t one to withhold comfort or affection. Not even from highhanded Pinkertons who snapped orders and denied her requests.

He still remembered the touch of her hand on his arm and the softness in her gaze as she urged him to be careful. They’d been arguing not two minutes before, yet she’d set all that aside in an instant to convey genuine concern for his well-being. Not many women of his acquaintance handled themselves with such magnanimity. Men either, for that matter. Probably himself included.

Turning back to his patient, he frowned at the boy’s closed eyes. “You still with me, Dennis?”

Lashes fluttered, then lifted. “Yessir.”

“Good.” This was going to be hard enough to manage with a conscious kid. Trying to wrangle an unconscious one would be much more difficult. “I’m going to help you sit up.”

Carefully supporting the arm he’d just set, Philip placed it across the boy’s chest so Dennis wouldn’t try to move it on his own when he sat up. Dennis squeezed his eyes shut and moaned during the transition, but he didn’t cry out. Brave lad.

“You ready?”

The kid opened his eyes, a glint of determination sharpening his gaze. “Mm-hmm.”

Philip took hold of Dennis’s left arm and placed a supporting hand to the boy’s back. “We’re gonna go slow. Your ribs will likely pinch, so be prepared for that. But if anything else hurts, or if those ribs take a bad turn, give a holler, and I’ll stop.”