to boil. I’ve got to look at the wound and clean it.”
“You got it boss.” She hurried away.
“Sarah, I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I’m not going to let you go. Not now, not ever. I can’t lose you, too. I love you. Can you hear me? Sarah, I love you.”
She didn’t move.
John took his knife and cut her blouse off and then her chemise. He checked for a wound on her back and didn’t find one. The bullet was still in her.
Bertha came in with the towels. He got the pitcher and basin from on top of the commode. The water wasn’t hot but was better than nothing. He had to see the wound. After dipping one of the towels in the water, he wiped the blood away, cleaning it as best he could. The blood was slowing which was a good thing; at least she wasn’t going to bleed to death.
He didn’t know how deep the bullet went; just that it was still in there and needed to come out. The doc better get there soon.
Bertha helped him get her out of the rest of her clothes. He put her under the covers and tried to keep her warm waiting for the doctor. It had been about an hour since he’d sent the man for the doctor and they still weren’t back. The sound of hooves pounding hard up the drive took him to the window. His man was back but the doctor wasn’t with him.
The thunder of boots on the stairs stopped when his man, Ben, pushed open the door. “Boss, the doc wasn’t in. He’s up the canyon helpin’ with a birthin’. I left a message with his missus to send him out here as soon as he got back.”
There was no choice now.
“Bertha, bring hot water, whiskey and laudanum. We’ve got to get the bullet out of there.”
“Sure thing.” She bustled out of the room and down to the kitchen.
Ben stood in the room and stared at Sarah.
“You go on and keep watch for the doctor.”
“Ah. Sure. Sure.” He left the room.
John was alone with Sarah. “Honey, this is going to hurt. But I’m going do the best I can to hurry and get that out of you so you’ll get well.”
“Daddy?”
Oh, Christ, the girls. He’d been so worried about Sarah, he’d completely forgotten the little ones.
He went over to them where they stood in the doorway. “Katy. You and MaryAnn go to your room and stay there with the puppies. Can you do that for me?”
“But Mama,” said MaryAnn.
“Mama, is going to be fine. You just do as I ask.”
“Yes, sir,” they said together.
He saw the look in their eyes, worry and fear. Katy wouldn’t lose another mother. He would not let it happen. He gave them both a hug and sent them on their way.
“Sarah, you hear that? Our girls are worried about you. You have to get well now.”
Bertha came back in to the room carrying a teakettle full of boiling water. He threw the bloody water in the basin out the window, filled it with the water from the kettle and put his knife in to soak. He pulled Sarah’s tweezers from off the top of the tall boy dresser and dropped them in, too.
“Here, thought you’d need these too and I didn’t want to make another trip.” She handed him the hemostats.
He added those to the basin. After they had soaked for a bit he took them out and put them on a towel. Then he used the water in the basin to wash his hands and then held the instruments over the basin and poured whiskey over them. That was as sterile as he could make them.
Taking the knife he made one inch incisions on the upper and lower side of the hole from the bullet. He put the knife aside and took a deep breath before he plunged his finger in the wound, working it down until he ran into the bullet. It wasn’t too deep and he felt confident he could get it out with the hemostats. He wiped his hand dry, picked up the instrument and put it into the wound until he hit the lead. Then he carefully grabbed it and pulled it out. He dropped the whole thing into the basin with a splash. Then he took the whiskey and poured it into the wound.
Sarah screamed. Even
“You got it boss.” She hurried away.
“Sarah, I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I’m not going to let you go. Not now, not ever. I can’t lose you, too. I love you. Can you hear me? Sarah, I love you.”
She didn’t move.
John took his knife and cut her blouse off and then her chemise. He checked for a wound on her back and didn’t find one. The bullet was still in her.
Bertha came in with the towels. He got the pitcher and basin from on top of the commode. The water wasn’t hot but was better than nothing. He had to see the wound. After dipping one of the towels in the water, he wiped the blood away, cleaning it as best he could. The blood was slowing which was a good thing; at least she wasn’t going to bleed to death.
He didn’t know how deep the bullet went; just that it was still in there and needed to come out. The doc better get there soon.
Bertha helped him get her out of the rest of her clothes. He put her under the covers and tried to keep her warm waiting for the doctor. It had been about an hour since he’d sent the man for the doctor and they still weren’t back. The sound of hooves pounding hard up the drive took him to the window. His man was back but the doctor wasn’t with him.
The thunder of boots on the stairs stopped when his man, Ben, pushed open the door. “Boss, the doc wasn’t in. He’s up the canyon helpin’ with a birthin’. I left a message with his missus to send him out here as soon as he got back.”
There was no choice now.
“Bertha, bring hot water, whiskey and laudanum. We’ve got to get the bullet out of there.”
“Sure thing.” She bustled out of the room and down to the kitchen.
Ben stood in the room and stared at Sarah.
“You go on and keep watch for the doctor.”
“Ah. Sure. Sure.” He left the room.
John was alone with Sarah. “Honey, this is going to hurt. But I’m going do the best I can to hurry and get that out of you so you’ll get well.”
“Daddy?”
Oh, Christ, the girls. He’d been so worried about Sarah, he’d completely forgotten the little ones.
He went over to them where they stood in the doorway. “Katy. You and MaryAnn go to your room and stay there with the puppies. Can you do that for me?”
“But Mama,” said MaryAnn.
“Mama, is going to be fine. You just do as I ask.”
“Yes, sir,” they said together.
He saw the look in their eyes, worry and fear. Katy wouldn’t lose another mother. He would not let it happen. He gave them both a hug and sent them on their way.
“Sarah, you hear that? Our girls are worried about you. You have to get well now.”
Bertha came back in to the room carrying a teakettle full of boiling water. He threw the bloody water in the basin out the window, filled it with the water from the kettle and put his knife in to soak. He pulled Sarah’s tweezers from off the top of the tall boy dresser and dropped them in, too.
“Here, thought you’d need these too and I didn’t want to make another trip.” She handed him the hemostats.
He added those to the basin. After they had soaked for a bit he took them out and put them on a towel. Then he used the water in the basin to wash his hands and then held the instruments over the basin and poured whiskey over them. That was as sterile as he could make them.
Taking the knife he made one inch incisions on the upper and lower side of the hole from the bullet. He put the knife aside and took a deep breath before he plunged his finger in the wound, working it down until he ran into the bullet. It wasn’t too deep and he felt confident he could get it out with the hemostats. He wiped his hand dry, picked up the instrument and put it into the wound until he hit the lead. Then he carefully grabbed it and pulled it out. He dropped the whole thing into the basin with a splash. Then he took the whiskey and poured it into the wound.
Sarah screamed. Even
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