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“Let me know if I need to slow down.” Logan eased the horse from a jog to a ground-eating lope. He felt Ezra’s body tense, and he knew the young apprentice was in excruciating pain. But the sooner they reached the doctor, the better.
The doctor.
He hadn’t crossed paths with Kristin since the morning she’d left Webb’s house. She’d given his wound a final check, pronounced it free of infection, and departed in a buggy driven by one of Webb’s hired men. With her parting words, she’d ordered him to come by her office later for a follow-up. But Logan hadn’t done so. He hadn’t seen the need, and he knew that his decision to buy the ranch property had angered her.
Even now, she wouldn’t be glad to see him. But Logan knew that would make no difference. Dr. Kristin Dollarhide was a professional. Her only concern would be for her patient.
CHAPTER NINE
KRISTIN WAS IN HER SURGERY, CLEANING UP AFTER STITCHING THEgashed scalp of a venturesome six-year-old named Lester, who’d tumbled out of a tree and scraped a sharp limb on the way down. The damage wasn’t serious, but like most head wounds, it had bled profusely. The child’s young mother had been frantic; but all had ended well, with a smile and a cherry lollipop.
She’d wiped down the table and was putting the stained towels into a basin to soak when she heard the sound of a horse pulling up outside.
“Open the door and show them in, please, Gerda,” she called toward the front office, which doubled as both parlor and reception. “Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Yes, Doctor.” Gerda was doing her best to sound professional. Kristin had hired the girl as an assistant, mostly as a favor to her family. But Hanna’s sister had proven as eager and sharp as she was pretty. She was becoming an asset to the practice.
Kristin was washing her hands when she heard the front door open and a cry of dismay from Gerda. “Ezra! Oh, no! No!”
Shaking the water off her hands, Kirsten rushed into the front room. Logan was lowering a white-faced young man into the armchair nearest the door. The young man was cradling his arm, which was supported by a sling. Gerda was weeping.
“What happened?” Kristin directed the question at Logan.
“He was working on my barn when a frame slipped. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for whatever it takes to treat him.”
She shot him a cold look. “That’s the last thing I’m worried about. Get him into the back room. He can sit on the edge of the table while I check the arm.”
Kristin stepped back and held the door, allowing Logan to support Ezra as he struggled to the table. Kristin avoided Logan’s gaze, focusing her attention on her patient. If things were awkward between them, that couldn’t be allowed to matter right now.
With Ezra sitting on the edge of the exam table, and Logan steadying him on the right, Kristin untied the sling and used a pair of sharp scissors to cut away the left shirt sleeve. Ezra was biting his lip to keep from crying out. His upper arm was bruised, bent, and beginning to swell, clearly a compound fracture. At least the broken bone hadn’t pierced the skin. But the arm would need to be set, splinted until the swelling went down, then encased in a plaster cast.
Gerda, still teary-eyed, fluttered around them as Logan eased Ezra into a supine position on the table. “I know what you’re going to do,” she said. “It’ll hurt a lot, won’t it?”
“Yes. I’ll give Ezra something to lessen the pain but he’ll still feel it.”
During and after the war, Kristin had worked with advanced anesthesia machines that could deliver measured combinations of ether, nitrous oxide, chloroform, and oxygen to render patients safely unconscious. Nothing like those was available here, of course. All she had was a canister of nitrous oxide, also known as laughing gas, with a simple valve, a hose, and a face mask that she’d ordered from a dental supply house. Using it to put Ezra all the way under would be too risky. But she could give him enough gas to make him light-headed and less aware of what was happening.
“Don’t worry, Ezra.” Gerda leaned over and kissed his lips. “I’ll be right here, holding your hand. I love you.”
Ezra forced his colorless face into a ghost of a smile. “I love you, too,” he whispered.
Kirsten placed the mask over Ezra’s nose and mouth and examined the break using her fingertips to find where the bones had separated. Steeling herself, she took a firm grip on the arm. “Hold him,” she ordered Logan.
* * *
Setting the bone didn’t take long, but the process was brutal. Even with the laughing gas pleasantly clouding his mind, Ezra screamed as the two broken pieces came together. Holding him in place, Logan could sense the jolt of pain that shot through the young man. Memories flashed—the hospital tent, the broken bodies, the odors of sweat and disinfectant, and the sounds of suffering.
Then it was over. Kristin had removed the gas and was wrapping the arm in soft cotton, binding it to the wooden braces to make a splint that would be replaced with a cast in the next few days. Ezra, pale as bleach, lay with his eyes closed.
“Somebody should sit with him until he feels steady enough to get up.” Kristin glanced at Gerda, whom Logan had met when he visited the Anderson family.
“I’ll do it.” The pretty girl was more than eager.
“Fine. Don’t try to help him up yourself. Call me when it’s time,” Kristin said.
“If you’ll allow me to stay, I’ll see him home to his family,” Logan offered.
She gave him a sharp glance. “Fine. But he lives at the far end of town, and you shouldn’t take him on horseback. My Model T is in the shed behind the house. Use that and bring it back when you’ve delivered him.”
