Wild Innocence by Candace McCarthy Page B

he said, “I need my forceps and a lancet.”
    Rachel nodded, and quickly went to the supply cabinet for the requested instruments. She returned and set the lancet, the forceps, and fabric strips to wipe away the blood on the table at her father’s side.
    She gasped as she studied Black Hawk. Unconscious, he lay on the bed, his pallor sickly, his face bruised and swollen. His chest was scratched, his shoulder torn open by gunpowder and shot. Blood oozed from the wound, quickly saturating the cloth that John Dempsey placed upon the injury site.
    No! she cried silently.
    Swallowing back a cry of horror, Rachel ran back to the cabinet for more bandages. Then, she filled a basin of water and set it on the work stand within her father’s reach. Her pulse pounded as she worked, her thoughts with Black Hawk.
    â€œWill he be all right?” Daniel asked as he entered the room.
    John Dempsey kept his gaze on his patient, his brow furrowed with concentration. “If I have anything to say about it, he will,” he said quietly.
    Watching her father work, Rachel felt light-headed and slightly sick to her stomach. She glanced toward Daniel and saw the strain in his expression. “He has the best doctor there is,” she told him encouragingly.
    Daniel tore his gaze from his injured friend to look at his sister-in-law. “I know he has.” He offered her a weak smile.
    John’s careful examination of Black Hawk took a long time. Besides the bullet wound, the Indian had contusions to his chest, his arms, and his legs. Rachel wondered if he had suffered any internal injuries.
    She felt the tension within her grow as she waited for her father’s instructions and some sign that Black Hawk would recover. “Father, will he survive?”
    Ignoring her question, John Dempsey gestured toward the opposite side of the bed as he looked at his daughter. “Rachel, I need you to stand here.”
    â€œFather, will be he all right?” she asked.
    â€œHe’ll live,” he said, and Rachel was relieved. Heart thundering, she skirted the bed.
    â€œDaniel, please tell Black Hawk’s friends they will have to leave now,” John said. “Tell them to wait in the next room.”
    Daniel spoke briefly to the braves in Ojibwa. One warrior seemed to argue with Daniel, until a quiet word from the second one ended the discussion. The Indians left, with one brave lingering behind briefly to gaze at Black Hawk with concern. Rachel gave him a smile of encouragement.
    â€œIs there anything I can do?” Daniel asked when the Indians had gone. John shook his head. “Then I’ll wait with the Ojibwa in the other room.” The doctor didn’t answer.
    Rachel gave Daniel a nod to tell him that it was fine if he left. Then she returned her attention to Black Hawk.
    Her stomach rolled as Rachel watched her father probe Black Hawk’s open wound. “Is it bad?” she asked, upset by the sight of the injured man.
    â€œBad enough,” John said. “I need you to take these instruments and hold open the wound for me.”
    Rachel felt the blood drain from her face. I can do this. I will do this.
    Her father looked up when she hesitated. “Rachel?”
    â€œYes, Father.” She quickly reached for the instruments she needed.
    John Dempsey instructed his daughter how to lift the edges of the wound and hold them aside. It wasn’t easy. Rachel flinched when a moan escaped the Indian brave during her first attempt to touch metal to flesh. She had to be careful not to damage the surrounding bruised flesh further.
    â€œI’m hurting him!” she exclaimed, quickly pulling away.
    â€œYou are not hurting him, Rachel,” her father said patiently. “His injury is.”
    â€œBut I’m touching his wound!”
    John narrowed his gaze upon his daughter’s face. “Would you like me to send for Amelia?” he asked with a definite challenge in