Return of the Runaway by Sarah Mallory

survivors, but Raoul knew they must reach them and quickly.
    The first man they pulled out had a broken arm, but the next was badly crushed and groaning pitifully. An old woman standing beside Raoul crossed herself before trying to drag away another rotted timber. There would be more crushed bodies, more broken limbs.
    â€˜You will need a doctor. Or better still, a surgeon.’
    â€˜Dr Bonnaire is ten miles away, monsieur. ’ The old woman took a moment to straighten up, pressing her hand to her back. She nodded to a group of young men working frantically to pull away more stones. ‘Jean can go, he is the fastest runner.’
    â€˜Take the horse.’
    Raoul heard Cassandra’s voice and turned to see her leading the bay forward.
    She said again, ‘Take the horse. It will be much quicker to ride.’
    â€˜Then let me go,’ said an older man, stepping up. ‘I can handle a horse and Jean’s strength would be better used getting those poor fellows out.’
    â€˜Good idea,’ agreed Raoul.
    He watched the man mount up and gallop away, calculating how long it would take the doctor to get there.
    â€˜What can I do?’ asked Cassandra.
    â€˜Where is the carriage?’
    â€˜I have told the post boy to drive to the auberge at the far end of the village. What may I do to help you?’
    He regarded her as she stood before him. She was too petite to be of help moving the rubble; her hands were unused to any type of work at all. He was also afraid that they would be bringing bodies out soon and he did not want her to witness the carnage. He looked towards a group of women and children crying noisily as they watched the proceedings.
    â€˜Get them away,’ he muttered. ‘They are doing no good here.’
    â€˜Of course.’
    She nodded and Raoul went back to the laborious process of dragging away the rubble stone by stone.
    As word of the disaster spread more people turned up to help with the rescue. Raoul left them to finish digging out the survivors while he attended those they had already pulled out of the building. He had not wanted to reveal that he was a medical man, but there was no sign of the doctor and these people needed his help.
    After sluicing himself down at the village pump he went to the nearest house, where the injured men had been taken. There were four so far: a quick glance showed him that the man who had been severely crushed would not survive. There was nothing he could do for the fellow so he left him to the care of the local priest while he set the broken arm and patched up the others as best he could. Thankfully they were not seriously hurt, but others were being carried in, each one bringing with him the damp, dusty smell of the collapsed building. He had no instruments and his equipment was limited to the bandages piled on a table, but there was hot water in a kettle hanging over the fire and a large flask of white brandy to ease the suffering of the injured men.
    * * *
    It was growing dark and Raoul was working alone in the little room when he heard the thud of horses and the sudden commotion outside the door. The doctor, at last. He looked up, his relief tempered by surprise when he saw a fresh-faced young man enter the room.
    â€˜You are Dr Bonnaire?’
    â€˜Yes. And you are?’
    â€˜Duval. My wife and I were passing through here when the accident happened.’
    â€˜It was good of you to stay and help.’ Dr Bonnaire looked about him. ‘Are all the men recovered, did everyone survive?’
    â€˜Everyone is accounted for now, nine men in all. Two are dead, four had only slight injuries. I patched them up and sent them home. These three are the most seriously injured.’ He nodded to a man sitting by the fire. ‘I have set his arm, but he has also had a blow to the head and is not yet able to stand.’ He walked over to the two men lying on makeshift beds. ‘These two are the worst. They were both