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“Understandable. Blurry vision?”
Squinting, he gave her a charming smile. “Not a sou.”
“Then I’ve done my job. If you’re up to it, I’ll turn you over to the sheriff, here, because I know he needs to talk to you.” As the man inched forward off the chair, ready to rise, Letty paused him. “Mr. Ward.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“You come back here tomorrow, all right? Say—two o’clock. I want to make sure everything is healing as it should.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am. Thanks for patchin’ me up. You done good.” He raised his hand, offering a two-fingered salute at about the area where his hat brim would have been resting, and walked slowly away to seek out the law.
Finally, she could turn her attentions to the man languishing in a semi-stupor, on his own examining-room bed. Taking away those precious few minutes from his more drastic condition, to tend the lesser one of the guard, would make little difference in his recovery, she had determined. She must follow procedure as Gabe had taught her: scrutinize, assess, assemble, treat.
He came somewhat to himself as she began cutting away his garments. He understood. And tried to cooperate.
“Odds Bodikins,” the doctor muttered, shifting slightly to accommodate the busy snip of her scissors. “And me with a—brand new suit...”
“You’ll buy another,” she promised without a qualm. “Lie still, if you can. What I’m about to do to you is going to hurt.”
Gabriel sputtered a tiny little laugh that became a ragged cough. “Oh, yeah, I—I’m sure it will. Couldn’t be lucky enough to—to have that dang bullet go straight—on through; it had to get stuck some—somewhere—inside. You’ll have to—curse it all—dig for it, Letty. Meantime, you better get me —some laudanum. I ain’t no good—at chawin’ on a chunk of wood—for pain...”
That was simple enough. A light dose now; more, later, depending upon need.
And so it began.
The care for Elander Ward’s head wound had been neither too demanding nor too distracting. She had tried her best to remedy his ills, and, more, felt satisfied that she had done so.
Repairing the damage inflicted upon Gabe’s great frame, without inflicting further damage, was another matter entirely.
Once he had lapsed back into heavy slumber, unresponsive to her words or touch, Letty had been quite calmly capable of casting aside the gory, gummy coat and ruined shirt. She had been able to maintain that calm while washing Gabe’s upper right chest with fresh warm water, enhanced by disinfectant. Her fingers were even steady enough while seeking out and gently probing the ragged hole still leaking blood.
But when it came to picking up the surgical instruments sterilized for use, to actually plunge a forceps into this man’s living flesh to search for the bullet, she quailed.
Letty swallowed hard, blinked rapidly, and took a deep breath.
Were Gabriel awake, he would, of course, be urging her on with teasing and scoffing.
But he was not awake. She must continue with this terrible procedure on her own, bereft of encouragement or guidance. What if the forceps slipped? What if she needed to employ a scalpel, and cut her way in? What if she lost the bullet entirely? What if, what if...?—she was feeling near panic at the very thought of what must be done, and only her shaking hands to do it.
Both window shades were fully open, to allow in as much illumination as possible; one sill had been raised a few inches to admit fresh air upon a stuffy atmosphere. Still, behind her, bent and crouched as she was over the examining table, something suddenly crossed in front of the kerosene lamp, casting a shadow.
Flinging a nervous tear off her cheek, she snapped, “Get out of my light!”
“I’m sorry, Letty.”
She turned her head. “Hannah!” Her splintery voice choked on emotion. “Oh, Hannah, I’m so glad you’re here! I desperately need moral support—and some help!”
Clearly her sister had come straight from the newspaper office. Both hat and jacket had been left somewhere behind; and, in a flurry of movement from several streets distant, her hair had freed itself from the customary regal chignon to trail loose around her shoulders, and her face was flushed.
“The word is out all around the town,” she said in a low, tight tone. “I came immediately, as soon as I heard. What do you need me to do?”
“Oh—bring the lamp closer. And hold this back, out of the way, and that, and sop up the blood with one of those cloths... and Hen, for Heaven’s sake, tell me I’m doing the right thing!” Poor Letitia, anxious and scared almost out of her wits, couldn’t hold back more tears.
Hannah’s strong, sturdy hand, still smudged here and there with bits of ink, covered her sister’s. “You’ve had more medical training than anyone else, Letty, and Gabriel would tell you the same. He would trust your instincts, because you know exactly what to do. Just let me get a good wash, and I’ll be right back to assist you.”
For some time they worked together in relative silence, with only an occasional murmur between them, and the doctor’s heavy breathing or infrequent groan. Letitia found, to her great relief, that Hannah’s rock-solid presence gave just the boost to her morale that had been lacking, and added a sureness and dexterity to her own fingers to complete the job. As she progressed, her self-confidence grew; and Gabe would reap the benefits.
The front door opened once or twice, as curious and concerned well-wishers peeked in to see what headway was being made. Both women were too intent upon the task before them to pay attention. Better just to ignore everyone and everything while something so vital was going on.
